


Witches and Witchers

by MoonGlum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood, Chapters? We'll find out as we go, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Geralt is Geralt so of course it is a slow burn with Granger, Gore, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hermione at 16 no guarantees, Hermione is 13 so it is fairly clean, It will be 'forever' before real smut, Rape (because this world is terrible), Teasing, Violence, WIP ignore anything contrary lol, everyone is fine unless you are a monster, gossip with jaskier, graphic depictions of suspense, horror/suspense, if it works for making a good steak it will make for a good read, it's a real slow burn folks so just sit back and enjoy, masturbation (references until a certain age), slow burns make it hotter so enjoy it, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonGlum/pseuds/MoonGlum
Summary: Hermione is a know it all. For what she knows. She's also an on the fence perfectionist. Until one potion goes terribly wrong and well... Why ruin it this way.
Relationships: Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Geralt of Rivia/Yennifer of Vengerberg, Hermione Granger/ Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 33
Kudos: 131





	1. ?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry everybody there were some edits to the piece that had to be made there was a mistake with separating change in story Narrative/perspective and flashbacks. Hope fully this clears it all up.
> 
> Narrative/Perspective change: ~~~~~
> 
> Flashback/return from flashback: ----

“Carefully Ms. Granger.” Snape mused more to himself rather than try to give Hermione instruction, “We wouldn’t want another.” As his gaze turned over to the little Weasley boy and Mr. Potter, “Accident.”

She tried to get a grip on the situation. There were long hours spent pouring over the books, measuring, remeasuring, calculations, simmering, boiling times recorded, practices, and a whole slew of charms she had used to help keep her calm during her studies. Then there was the bonus of the time turner. A gift to assist in her studies which became particularly helpful when getting ready for this exam. It was a rather tough one. One that Snape was all too happy to unveil. Despite his nonchalant posture and overall demeanour, it took a skilled observer to notice the slight smile at the corner of his lips. Glancing over to her friends she could feel a little bit of blood rush to her cheeks as the two sat and watched her covered in smoke and ash whilst holding what little remained of their shared cauldron.

That was the sad side effect of the potion. Combustion and embarrassment. Not only had this been a tough exam to the point of which Snape was an even more harsh marker than during his usual exams but it was incredibly difficult even from a skilled alchemist. There was no way in Hermione’s mind that this was meant for third year students. Especially since it was in their first semester of the year. What made things worse than the usual harsh marking was that Snape seemed to be moving significant amounts of house points per success or failure of the potion they had all been brewing. To record there was ten points to Slytherin, thirty points to Ravenclaw, fifty points removed from Hufflepuff, and currently a whopping three hundred and fifty points removed from Gryffindor. Seems Neville and his partner had just as bad a time as Harry and Ron. Then again didn’t they also have a table where their cauldron sat?

Then of course there was Malfoy making matters worse with his little crew. That nasty little cockroach of a person. Simply mocking a persons’ ability to brew this complex potion based on the purity of their blood or the background of their happen stance. What only made things worse was that he successfully brewed the potion to which he was awarded fifty points to compensate for the rest of the houses failure all of which was still minimal due to a mixture of Snape’s bias and the fact Malfoy gave tips and tricks to make them better at it than when they had started but not enough to outshine himself before Mr. Snape. Filthy cockroach indeed.

Now it was still time for her to finish her attempt at the potion. She had all the ingredients, chopped, diced, pressed, simmered, cracked, and almost any other form of preparation possible. Adding the ingredients once prepped was the easiest part it was just a simple matter of remembering the order in that each ingredient was to be added in. The amounts were precise although that wasn’t enough to gain Snape’s praise on the matter. The cauldron fizzed and bubbled as the last couple of ingredients were dropped in. There was a light lime green aura emanating from the cauldron which was a good sign. Now came the trickiest part to the whole procedure. The mixing. There was a sort of simple guide to it from her observations about the room and watching Malfoy’s concoction of the potion. There was a series of colours that would hint whether you made the correct stirs in terms of direction, speed, and depth. Neville panicked when making his batch and spun it faster and faster until the cauldron glowed a deep red to which Snape pulled him away along with any other nearby student just in time until the red fog ebbed from it. At that point she had turned away and continued to read her notes one last time, so their table could have disappeared in the fog with their cauldron. Harry and Ron went straight for the bottom of the cauldron and stirred clockwise in little and fast circles to which it seemed the whole place was going to black out as light was absorbed more than emanating from it. Then BOOM! Up in smoke it all went. Luckily, she knew a charm to spare the school any more damage, but other than that she continued to revise her notes. Of course, her revision was done in a bit of aggressive haste as Malfoy had completed his examination perfectly. She hurriedly read her notes to get an actual glimpse of what it would be like in the multiple stages to know it was done right. All she did see was a golden light lazily sitting along the rim of the cauldron as it turned into scintillating patterns occasionally as the lazy mist ebbed down the sides of the cauldron.

“Ms. Granger.” She could feel Snape’s eyes on her as she snapped out of it.

Then her face went from red with rage to ghost like pale. Her mix wasn’t red or black but a disheartening combination of the two with a hint of. Purple? It was odd to see but there it was a thin layer of purple smoke like a barrier between the two colours. Instinctively there was a desire to change that. She brought her stirrer near the surface of the mixture and started stirring faster and faster. A sigh of relief was heard from the whole class as the two colours faded away and was replaced with a rich lavender purple. Confident in her abilities she went back to what seemed to be the mid-section of her potion and give it a moderate stir. It went from purple to orange changing in slow hews till it was vibrant. Hermione was pleased with herself as the rest of the students fell silent. Even Malfoy to which she was heavily relieved. And with that she blew out a sigh of relief.

Then her heart jumped into her throat as she caught herself mid sigh. Temperature. The mixture was terribly sensitive to changes in temperature and she just blew what should have been a room temperature sigh coolly all along the surface of her potion. The surface started to turn an icy blueish colour as the stirrer got caught in the surface. This was worse than she had originally though as red and black smoke intermingled in a thin purple layered bubble through the now icy surface. That was the worst part about the potion. You could only cool it after the mixture had fully settled otherwise you get an icy surface that locks your stirrer.

This was easily the worst rendition this class had had yet. Her house would have to win seven quidditch matches just to be third place in the end of the year at this rate. She just needed more time. Then it hit her. Time. She had a time turner! Although trying to be discrete she had to hurry the low tones of Snape’s voice echoed along the edges of her ears, but she was too busy to give them any mind. It was as if time had stopped itself in an instant. Or it had slowed down to where it seemed like it had stopped as her fingers quickly raced along the edges of the time turner. Two ticks should do. Right? Her mind was racing as she saw students in the corner of her eye gabbing their books, quills, and wands before turning over tables or running out of the room all together. One. Her gaze went to the other side of the room as she found Malfoy laughing mockingly as he tried to cover his mouth while his friends picked him up and carried him to the far wall. Two. As she turned her head and found Snape rushing up towards her getting ready to pull his wand from amidst his robes. Three. Her eyes locked on the cauldron as the ice cracked as a slew of smoky bubbles coursed through the cracks popping along the way and making whatever they touched vanish in a pile of ashy fire. Four. Hermione wished she could scream but it was stuck in her throat as she realised what she had done as one of the bubbles approached her. It was only a few inches away from her nose and would have burnt it for sure. Until the time turner worked its magic. Then the bubbles started to float down from where they stood if but only for a moment.

It was exciting watching magic as it ran its course. As time bent as what seemed around her will. It was refreshing to see that her mistakes were rewinding as students came back to their seats like when you put an old tape in rewind. Then something troubling raced into her mind. The bubbles. They were still near her. They had not disappeared like the rest. The one before her fell a few inches and then fizzled into a small puff of smoke while others splattered in an ink-like consistency. Her heart continued to race, however, as she noticed that time continued to move further and further away from the time she had intended. Picking up the time turner she gasped as she realised that she made it crash right into a bubble and her heart skipped a beat.

“Bloody hell indeed.” She began to panic while trying to remain calm.

Time continued to race faster and faster into the past as the bubble popped and released its inky consistency along the rings and spindles of the time turner. It sizzled as the sands within the little hourglass began to fall and swirl about her intermingling with other bubbles popping them as it went its path. She could have believed her eyes were failing her as she started to see the floorboards being removed. Then the stone. Then everything as Hogwarts became nothing but a mundane castle only to fall even further and become a plot of land. Only getting worse as she found that plot of land sinking down into the ocean. Hermione could feel her head get heavy as she felt the area around her start to spin out of control. She tried to massage the temples of her head to try and get a grip of her reality. However, that was the current problem. It seemed that reality itself was unfolding and folding at undetermined quantities altering space around time rather than through it. Or so it had seemed until the sands of time within the turner escaped the confines of space where time had originally altered about her person. Now time was intermingling with the undetermined patterns of the altered reality.

Now she was starting to properly lose it as she realized that her mistake had now led to what seemed to be a permanent altering of time space or space time in everchanging disproportionate amounts. It was hard to find the words for it, but it simply was amazing and terrifying. She had learned something new both about potions and the time space relationship, but she didn’t know what that meant in terms of her survival from this unfortunate encounter. Even in this most chaotic of forms this rendition of magic cause a sense of pride within her to realise she had the potential to reach such lofty heights with proper discipline and study. Save she survived this. Once again learning took over common sense. She tried soaking as much of this into her mind until it became unbearable. Then as if it were a dream it all went dark. Although her vision seemed to leave her, she could still feel herself within the confines of the magical barrier protecting her person. At least until she started to feel extreme vertigo. She tried to stabilise herself, but she couldn’t tell if she was coming or going, right side up or upside down, here there or anywhere. She could still feel the confines of the magical entities surrounding her as she traversed this dangerous path and sought to calm herself down.

She tried to speak but all that could be heard was various pitches of rumblings. Bringing a hand, she snapped her fingers near her ear. Nothing. She tried once again but to no avail. Then her sense of smell was removed from her person as she couldn’t even smell the faintest hint of her perfume. She could still feel her heart race as she hands, and feet started to get pins and needles along them. Like when you sit in a position for too long and cut off the circulation and then have blood slowly return to them. There was a numbness that follows that. It was that numbness that then spread about her person. It was like she had been shot up full of her father’s novocaine. Everything tingled and felt sluggish until there was nothing to perceive. She was just floating along the vast expanse of the void.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sweet smell of fresh grass filled her nostrils. Her eyes felt heavy and her vision was blurry while she tried to get a look around. Her body still wouldn’t obey her and so she lay there in the grass paralyzed. There was a high pitch sound in her ears until it slowly ebbed away and then she could hear the light chirping of crickets in the background. The occasional cicada humming along the distance. There was something about this place that made her blood run cold. Slowly she started to feel her strength come back to her again as she brought herself up to a sitting position. For a brief second, she thought she saw something move along the trees. Like a rock just decided to get up and leave from its resting place.

She froze in place as she felt a multitude of legs racing along the back of her hand. Tiny little insect legs. It felt like a combination running a feather along the back of your hand and at the same time forceful and with purpose. Her eyes widened as she found a giant centipede wriggling its way past her. She wanted to scream but wasn’t sure what that would do for her in the long run. She really wanted to pull her hand away, but she was also unsure of what the bug would do. Hermione had a shiver running up her arm and down her spine as she watched it almost fully pass her to then turn around and wriggle towards her wrist. A scream got caught in her throat as she watched the mandibles twitching as it reared its head back. The antenna moving about in the air as if trying to identify her. Then the head settled back down on her hand. Only to start racing up along her arm. Lightly tingly legs pressing up against her flesh sending waves of unsettling tingling sensations up and down her person.

Then as quickly as it had raced up her arm it disappeared. Hermione froze with terror as she wondered what had just happened. Was it a magical bug? Did a bird swoop by and she didn’t notice it? Either of those options didn’t seem right at all. There was something off about this place. Other than the ever so dark almost morbid appearance of things here. It probably wasn’t helped that it was getting closer and closer to night-time as a fog started to settle in and the shadows from the setting sun raced up along the trees like tendrils trying to blacken out the stars in the night sky. Thanks to the foliage it seemed like the shadows really had blackened out the sky.

Finding her strength again Hermione brought herself back up to her feet. From the sight of things there was no clear decision as to where to head next. There were no roads, trails, or other such indicators that any town was nearby. However, just because there was no town nearby didn’t stop her from noticing she wasn’t alone. Here in the dark. In an eerie forest. Surrounded by an ominous fog. The darkness and the fog wouldn’t have been such a bother to her had she found her wand. Searching for it she found nothing but several broken twigs from when she got up. Then it hit her. Her wand was on the table. With her books. In an altered timeline that may or may not have been destroyed to a series of terrible mistakes.

A rustling sound from about ten feet away caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. Her breath became shallow. Heartbeat started to race just a little to let the hormones in her system keep her ready for a fight or flight moment. Then a chill hit the air. Not your common chill. From her experience it wasn’t that far off from the eerie cold that follows a dementor. Yet something about this chill kept her ill at ease. Turning behind her, she noticed what looked like a small child some twenty maybe thirty feet away in the woods. Her heart started to race now, and the little figure slowly stood up, pounced on the ground animalistically, repeated the process several times, then stood up and slowly turned to face her. Hermione bit her lip in nervousness as two yellow almost golden eyes stared at her. Then the figure pounced into the fog once again.

That wouldn’t have been as worrying had she been in the forbidden woods. At least until she heard fast paced rustling noises racing up from that direction towards her. Occasionally the glint of those yellowish eyes could be seen through the fog. Her heart practically leapt up into her throat. Her feet began to shake with a build up of adrenaline unsure as to what her response would be. Her legs twitched as if to give her a sign as of what to do next. Then her mind and body caught up with one another. With a kick-off she started to run though the woods in a frantic and alarmingly fast rate. With the occasional glance behind her she lost comfort as the set of yellow eyes would disappear one moment to then seem closer the next. Hermione noticed that all the sounds of birds or chirping bugs fell silent as the night hit. The woods were even more silent since she had met this individual who chased her ravenously through the woods. It was like something from a nightmare. She really had to think of it as a nightmare. For just like in nightmares she started to feel her legs become heavy. Starting from her feet and moving further and further along her body. What made things worse was the only sound that seemed to flow through these woods at the time. The echoing laughter of a child. Solitarily. Clearly. Unnervingly so.

Hermione continued to race through the woods pushing aside all thoughts of this being like a nightmare despite the physical drainage that usually came upon someone in a dreamlike state. The laughing started to get more and more frequent and chilling as the cold feeling started to make her body feel numb. What made things worse was she was occasionally getting her feet brushing up against raised roots from trees. Almost like a terribly organized horror movie. She thought that was ridiculous. Until it happened to her. Left foot caught on a raised root and BAM! Right into the dirt. She felt a little hazy due to the fall but what made her skin crawl was how the roots moved and pinned her feet down almost like devil’s snare. However, no matter how calm she tried to be it wouldn’t let go. To make matters even worse she lost track of the yellow eyes that seemed to follow her. Even then the laughter died, and the forest fell eerily silent. What was probably seconds felt like hours. Then a familiar tingling sensation crept up on her. Quite literally. She tried not to open her eyes but found it near impossible to ignore what was going on. Upon her inspection now she was under the fog she regretted opening her eyes again. What started off as one turned into thousands. Hundreds at the least of giant centipedes. Their brown legs and hardened black shell-like bodies slithered from down along the nearby trees until encircling her. Then one approached as if scouting her out. Then another. And a third. Only to have the horde of them scuttle towards her. Slowly at first causing the nasty sensation of crawling things along her legs and arms and belly as the masses closed in on her. She tried batting a couple of them away but that only seemed to spurn them on to continue to envelope her being in the hivemind mass of bugs. She tried her best to hold back a scream as they now surrounded her entire being. Afraid to open her eyes or mouth as she feared they would try to make their way inside as a couple teased along her nostrils and ears. She could feel it building up as the series of legs scurried quickly along her person at an alarming rate that caused her skin to itch and cause goose bumps. The chocked back scream was slowly starting to make its way from inside her throat to the inside of her lips. Which terrified her as a series of legs raced along them. Then fear had her in its grasp.

Her terrified scream broke the absolute silence of the forest. Though it was the only sound that was heard. It echoed like the wailing of a banshee for what felt like miles on end. Then once she finished screaming and opened her eyes again, she noticed all the bugs had gone. She sat up again to catch her breath and noticed the roots were also no longer wrapped about her ankles. Then her skin began to crawl as she noticed the familiar laughing echoing behind her. She looked behind her frantically to see how much time she had to get up and start running again. Only to come eye to eye with those now large set of yellow eyes. Panicked that it had caught up with her in such a hurry.

“Wanna play that game again miss?” As the yellow eyes shown through the night like starlight, “You were awfully good at that acting scared thing.” Hermione was alarmed as she watched the grey skinned child pick up a centipede and bite its wriggling upper half off completely, “These are tasty but it seems you don’t like them much, so I thought I’d keep one to help with our game.” As the child swept back its black ratty hair.

“That was a game?!” she practically shouted but didn’t want to scare the kid off, fortunately for her the boy just laughed her surprise and anger off.

“Aye miss I like playing games like this, but all the other kids didn’t like my games.” As he crossed his arms and glanced at the ground, “Threw stones at me they did. Called it a more fun game. I hated it.”

“Well that makes sense.” As she tried to be understanding of what was going on, “Are all the other kids like you?”

“No miss.” His eyes glistened with glee as he noticed she was still here, “They look fair like you, not as pretty though.” As he took another bite from his creepy crawly snack, “Some o’em got missin’ teeth. Some I took others their mum or dad took.” As he pulled out a string tied along his neck containing six to twelve teeth, “And you got much prettier ones than these too.”

“How charming.” As she tried to keep her distance but still be considerate of his feelings, “W-was that magic back there?”

“Yes miss.” As he sat down to talk to her more, “Well I think it is it only happens when I play games.”

He was almost like a child and a house elf combined but alarmingly so. Had she not already had her terrifying experience for the night she would have panicked and screamed at this. His skin was a greyish hew to it and dirty, black unkept hair, dirt under the nails, a face like a child’s but larger to some extent, no pointed ears like a house elf but definitely could use magic like one, and the largeness of his eyes were almost like Dobby’s. The likeness was shocking. Big glassy eyes. Alarming eyes had she once again met him with not warning or other terror. Other than that, he wore a skirt of leaves to give him some dignity.

“Is there a nearby town?” Hermione asked not trying to make the boy feel uncomfortable as to why she tried to avoid playing his games, “Perhaps a house that nobody would miss?”

“Yes miss” he both smiled in delight and frowned in disappointment, “Big town. Lots of kids and people. Many buildings there. Some full some not.”

Then an idea hit her, “Would you like to play some games with me in one of the empty buildings then?”

“You really want to continue playing games?” He seemed shocked but also adorably pleased, “You go’in to town like that?”

“I beg your pardon?” Not realising she was still in school uniform.

“Pardon but you seem like a witch or a lady in one of them red lighted buildings if you walk in like that.”

“I am-” As she quickly bit her lip unknowing as to how he would act if she admitted she was a witch, “I am curious if you could grab me some clothes then so I can get into town a little easier than if I wore this.”

“Then we can play again?” As his face might as well of lit up as much as his eyes.

“Yes, then we can play again and maybe with some other people too.” It was a long shot but then again it may give her enough contact with the world she now became an inhabitant of to learn more about her surroundings.

The little boy beamed as he made his way disappearing into the fog headed what seemed to be North. She looked back down appraising her uniform. How could this make her look like a whore? She only hoped the boy was wrong about that. She sat there for a little while then got up and slowly walked to a nearby clearing. She was completely taken in awe as she gazed into the night sky seeing all the various stars lighting up the sky as fireflies danced about the chilly air in the pale moon light. Perhaps things only seemed harsh and scary due to the fact they were all new. It was strange for only some of the constellations were the same while others that should be there didn’t exist or were just different constellations dictated by those who are local here. Hermione almost screamed in terror when she turned her gaze from the sky to stare right back at those bright yellow eyes. Seemed this was something she would have to get used to.

“Here you go miss.” As he offered her some clothes, “Fitting for a witch.”

“I am n-”

“But you said you were?” He backed up warily, “I mean unless you want me to get something from the red-light place-”

“No, no, no!” She grabbed him and brought him back with the ‘witches’ clothes, “These will do fine.” Taking the clothes from the little boy, “Mind if I have some privacy?”

“A what?” he seemed more perplexed about this but then again, he wore a skirt of leaves and that didn’t do much good for him anyway.

“Never mind just turn this way.” As she moved the boy to face the other direction, “And don’t turn back around until I say so.”

“Okay.” He seemed like he was honest but from her experience he was a mischievous child and might peek.

The clothes themselves were not all that bad. They were of a rather fine material. A combination of velvet and satin. It was the actual make of the dress that made her wonder if this was what he thought witches wore. The dress had sleeves, but they stopped just shy of the shoulders as the fabric rose to trace along the collar bone. The back side was laced and once again only covered so much as the dress dipped from her shoulders to the small of her back. She was relieved at least that the actual skirt of the dress went completely down to her ankles. Other than feeling a bit exposed in the top it was rather cute. It was primarily black with a dark blue trim around the edges. She had to abandon her shoes, skirt, robe, and shirt but everything else she was taking with her. Luckily, he brought a matching cloak and with it she could cover herself a bit better and hide her bra within the folds of it. Sure, many of the dresses may not allow it but she was a modern girl and had hopes that not all women wore provocative clothes here. Once again, she just had to make do.

“Okay, how do I look?” As Hermione shifted in the flats, he had brought her.

“Make a decent looking witch if you ask me.” Raising two thumbs up above his head, “So do some of that what you call magic!” As he beamed with interest.

“Well that’s the thing” She said crossing her arms and lightly biting her lip, “I’m not sure how magic works here.”

“Oh.” Looking down and kicking the dust under his feet.

“But maybe with your help I can learn how to use magic here.” This caused him to perk up a bit, “Maybe I can learn more while we play with some of the people in town?”

“Alright miss!” As he grabbed Hermione’s hand, “Let’s go and play!”

It was terrible, she thought to herself, to mislead the boy in the way she did. However, she would need information and funds to obtain a wand or something to allow her to use magic. She knew that some wizards and witches could use magic in her world but those were usually cases of extreme emotional pressure or years’ worth of practice and experience. Both of which she had none to spare at the time. So, for now she had to make a ‘game’ for her newfound friend to where she could profit from it and by happen chance learn about the function of magic in this world without potentially getting burned at the stake. It was cheesy but she had an idea. She found it terrible but given her current set of circumstances what else was she meant to do? Work at the brothel? Not on her life. Though Malfoy would get a huge kick out of that. She was relieved when she realised, she was finally in a world without Malfoy. Then again, her heart sank realising she was in a world without her friends too. However, it seemed she was making troublesome friends just as quickly here too. Perhaps this won’t be as hard as she had imagined it to be. Still she had to keep her wits about her. She didn’t know what to expect. But all the new possibilities cause her heart to flutter. And for the time being that was all that mattered.


	2. So a Witcher, a Bard, and a Doppler Enter a Bar...

It was a rainy day. Sadly, rainier than it needed to be. It was dark for midday as hooves clopped along the muddy road into town. A hooded man sat atop his steed while a plucky young fellow wearing a ridiculous conglomeration of colours ranging from bright yellows to dark blues and various colours in between made their way into town. It was like entering town with a walking talking firework. Fortunately, for the rider it was pissing down with rain so much to where the bard had cradled his lute in his arms and wrapped his cloak over it to prevent warping of the neck and flooding of the interior. Still it didn’t bother the bard’s chipper mood as he continued to hum various tunes. Stopping occasionally to edit the piece in his head before going about the same tune until he hit a dead end. Still the rain was enough for the bard to be drowned out.

“Halt!” said the guard as they approached the gates to the town, “State your purpose and length of your stay.”

The rider pulled back his hood and stared at the man guarding the gate leading into the town. His yellow eyes were slit like a cats’. Strapped on his back were two swords. One of iron the other silver. If you were able to get closer without crapping yourself out of sheer shock from this musclebound figure you would notice a wolf’s head made of silver sitting upon the man’s chest on a chain necklace. His armour was worn and black and stunk to high heaven. So, at this point if the frightening visage of this person didn’t make you want to evacuate your bowels the stench did.

“W-w-w-w-”

“Yes, yes he’s a Witcher!” The bard now interrupted this unpleasant exchange of glances from the guard and his companion, “This is Geralt of Rivia and I’m his companion and you’re an idiot if you leave us here in the pissing rain for any longer!”

“R-right on in.” As the guard went pale in the face before Geralt and the bard, “Welcome to Bralor.”

“About bloody time!” As the bard stormed his way into town past the gates.

“You could have been a little gentler with him Jaskier.” Geralt coarsely spouted in his near monotone voice.

“We’ve been on the road for days Geralt. Not a monster in sight. Not even a bandit on a road. Nothing worth poem or song for that matter.” Jaskier couldn’t help but slump his shoulders, “I’ve been so tired. So bored.”

“Alright.” Geralt grunted as he tied Roach to a post, “If there is anything, I hate more than a cheery bard it’s a mopey one.”

“Aw Geralt you really do care.” Placing a hand on his chest with the other one on his forehead.

“Don’t get things mixed up its all to shut you up.” He sighed, “At least for a while.”

“Very kind of you sir.” Jaskier chimed as he made his way to the local tavern clearly indicated by a weather worn sign of an overflowing flagon.

“Just what the physician ordered.” He grumbled behind the bard as he slowly followed behind the bard.

It wasn’t the worst town, but it also wasn’t the best town they had ever stayed at. Things seemed odd and not just in the normal way he was accustomed to. Sure, it was a terribly rainy day but that doesn’t mean that was the reason for the town to be out of sorts. Certainly, there was something wrong he just couldn’t put a finger on it. It would have to be one of those things he figured out while on the move. For the mean time however, it would be good to get a drink that way he would be able to rest a little before going any further. Alcohol didn’t have near as a potent effect on his as he would have wished but due to his level of mutation his metabolism was abnormally quicker than most humans. Even faster than most monsters for that matter.

The bar was grim to say the least. Several figures crowded the tavern floor let alone the bar but none of them were talkative. The smell of cured meats and spiced gravy emanated along the open space. However, even the food seemed a little grim for lack of better words. Jaskier was found hitting on a tavern wench while trying to stomach the food she served him. It was shocking how he could talk a woman into almost anything but when he opened his mouth to sing. Geralt shivered at the very thought. He’d rather fight a series of ghouls than deal with Jaskier’s singing. It was a cruel irony being gifted with a voice yet also cursed with it at the same time. Unfortunately, it made him even more solemn as he reflected on the curse of his own existence.

With witchers there is always a catch. Not many survive the trial of mutation. Until then you aren’t really a witcher. Otherwise a man without a mutation is just a monster hunter with a death wish. Slow in reflexes and all the other handy senses a true witcher possessed. Due to that factor though not, many became witchers. Kaer Morhen was once filled with rather large numbers of witchers. However, most of them had died off shortly once Geralt joined their midst. Some considered him to be a troublesome addition to their ranks. Sure, there were plenty of other witchers in the ranks of the Cat and Viper schools but in Kaer Morhen school of the Wolf their numbers were almost nothing in comparison.

“Want something to eat Hun?” asked one of the maids, “Perhaps a drink?”

“Any meal will do as for drink a flagon of ale will suffice.” Geralt responded in his hoarse tone.

“Feel free to put that on my tab.” Said a voice absolutely dripping with tenderness and allure.

Geralt cocked an eyebrow as he watched a woman slip around the corner and glide into a seat opposite of him. She was well dressed. Certainly, above that of an everyday commoner. Her dress was a dark red velvet with black trim. A black corset riddled with black rose patterns held her ample bosom with ease making herself the centre of attention. Her lips were thin and twisted into a devilish smile. The scariest part about her other than her confidence was her eyes. They were an almost black hew of blue like the morning sky before the sun crested over the mountains and shot an array of yellows, reds, and oranges along the sky. Eyes that sat teasingly behind a curtain of brown curly hair that cascaded about her figure. Her hair was so long it easily would have reached the small of her back had the cloak she wore not covered it.

“I’m Vallure.” She smiled as she then ordered her meal and sent the maid away with a coin purse.

“Geralt.” He grunted.

“Yes, so I figured.” She laughed as she curled her hair in one of her fingers, “And what may I ask brings you to Bralor?”

“Isn’t the company obvious?” as he gestured to the bard who was now swarmed by a gaggle of women as he happily played a lengthy game of Gwent.

“My, my I’m surprised to find you in such company.” As she crossed her legs allowing herself to get comfortable in her seat.

“Anything to keep that one quiet if only for a little while.”

“Indeed.” She couldn’t help but laugh, “So are you two on honeymoon?”

“Hardly” he laughed gruffly.

“Oh, so you have some time to kill?” as she brought on of her feet along the side of Geralt’s leg.

“Better time than monsters at this point.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t the best idea, but she didn’t want to get in more trouble by practicing her magic without really knowing how to channel it. It was dishonest at best. For the first couple of days Hermione and the godling scammed a couple people out of money. She claimed that she had an ornament that allowed her to commune with the dead. However, it was just Dur using his godling magic to scare the people into thinking spirits inhabited the room they were in. Dur didn’t find it a very fun game though and after a while Hermione left the godling to his own devices in the abandoned house. She made sure to destroy the ornament so that she had a logical explanation as to why she lost her ability. With what little coin she had she traded out the dress for one a bit plainer. It was slightly uncomfortable, but it helped her blend in a lot better. The rest of her coin she had spent to buy food and a room for a couple of days.

Luckily for her within several days she got a minor job position at the local apothecary. Her tasks were simple gathering ingredients one day, prepping them, and letting the specialist handle all the major details. It wasn’t that much different form potion brewing save there was not much else to it. It was just syrups, tinctures, and the like. No magic at all. She missed having her wand as she sighed after handing a customer a bag of gathered herbs. The building was not terribly messy but there was always a layer of dust that just seemed to make its way into the building. It was of moderate size easily able to fit about ten customers. There weren’t that many customers as of late. It had been day three since the storm began but it got worse as each day passed.

Now all she could do was the occasional dusting and then stare out the window. Most of the people seemed nice enough and the lady who hired her offered her a room above the shop. It was simple and nice, but she felt too much like a muggle. It was common knowledge that spellcasters were rare to find in this world and she was having a hard time getting to grips with it. She was missing hearing owls screeching occasionally as they brought mail, going to classes with her friends, her wand, and just about everything about her old life at Hogwarts. Save Malfoy. She was glad he was gone from her life. At least for now.

Then something caught her eye. Or well two people. Not just ordinary people though. Okay she wasn’t sure if there was anything special about them at all. What she did know was how much they all stood out from the normal crowd. Just like she did her first couple of days here. Both seemed a little worn to put it politely. One was dressed as flamboyantly as a peacock and carried the aura of a soaked cat. As for the other well… he was… different. She couldn’t get a good read on him other than he seemed dangerous carrying two longswords on his back. She was terribly curious everything to do with them.

“Best not be around them love.” Said the shopkeeper, “Ain’t got nothin but trouble following them.”

“But why?” Hermione’s brow furrowed a little as she turned back to the window to watch the two talk in the street while the rain continued to pour.

“See that’n there.” As she neared the window and drew a circle about, the dark figured one with the swords, “That’s one of ’em witchers.”

“A what?” She was intrigued but really was wishing she could go back to a world where things made sense.

“Aw bless you love.” As she wrapped an arm around the girl, “A witcher is one of ‘em monster hunters. Surely, you’ve heard about them love. Some say they can use magic others just say they wield them swords as if they was magic.”

“Were.” She mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” As she fidgeted a little, “You were saying about the witcher.”

“Right ‘bout them lot.” She continued, “Some say they are taken away from a young age or even at birth. People say that only three outta survive.”

“Strange.” She meant to say to herself but something about this new list of information excited her.

“Indeed, it is love.” As she made her way back towards the herbal containers in the shop, “Some of ‘em witchers talk about being mutated. Something reeks of foul play if you ask me.”

“Mind if I get a closer look?”

“You, mad love?” The shopkeeper poked her head out again, “I just said thems nothin but trouble an’ you wanna have a look.”

The shopkeeper wasn’t sure about this Granger girl in the first place. She seemed interested in just about everything and had a knack for gathering ingredients and had a good sense of discipline. It was the curiosity that worried her though. Reminded her too much of herself when she was that age. Yet she couldn’t help but understand the girls’ situation. When she was her age witchers were one of those things that she was raised knowing about. Stories told in dimly lit hearths just before going off to bed. About monsters that lurked about in the night and the witchers that hunted them. The painful memories came back to her mind when one came for her brother as the law of surprise required. This little one she saw gazing out the window needed to learn that witchers can’t be trusted and that they are without a doubt dangerous. She couldn’t help but let out a long and heavy sigh.

“If you say so love, just make sure you find your way back to the shop afterwards.” As she made her way back to the storage space before turning around again, “and make sure to keep your distance!”

Hermione only heard the shopkeepers’ last words vaguely but had already heard the spiel before. She made sure she had her weather cloak and shoulder bag about her before stepping out. It was absolutely pouring. She reflected on days she would be cuddled up next to her window in her old room with a good book back at home during days like these. And although books would be terribly handy here, they were a bit too much considering the amount of coin she brought in after work each day. She couldn’t help but sigh as she tried to politely push past a couple of individuals to make her way towards the tavern. Several carriages and carts passed by making it difficult to see them let alone how difficult it was due to the weather.

By the time she had reached the door of the tavern she saw the witcher going up the stairs with a woman following closely behind him. She was a bit upset about that and let out a heavy sigh. Most of the characters here seemed a little dodgy while others she had met at the shop on the odd day. While it seemed the witcher was preoccupied she thought she might be able to talk to more of the locals. The only thing was she didn’t know where to start. At least until she saw the man who travelled with him. He had a certain flourish about him now that it seemed he had some food and drink in him let alone he wasn’t being rained on. He wasn’t that tall when compared to the witcher but to her he was tall. Getting closer she also noticed he was rather cute. Certainly not boy band cute and if so, he would be the super touchy feely one who wore his emotions on his sleeve. From the looks of it he had entered in a game of cards and from the now lively shouts from the small crowd that gathered it seemed he was doing well. Hermione tried to nudge her way in closer to the man but was finding it a bit difficult.

“Sorry little miss, but did you see the witcher?” as she turned to face a barmaid with a tray containing two plates of food and mugs.

“S-sorry I didn’t see-”

“Ah yes thanks I’ll take those Geralt is with me!” As he clambered from the card table tossing a few coins at his opponent with a little disgust.

“Ah, and is she?” looking at Hermione.

“Um…” He held the note as he quickly assessed the poor girl, “Yes she’s with me.” His eyes widened a little bit in alarm at the misinterpretation of it, “S-she’s my cousin.” He tried to quickly recover.

The barmaid sighed heavily and left the tray on the table muttering a series of curses to herself. Hermione gave the man a quick curtsy before sitting down at the table with the disregarded tray. The man had a look of dread about him as he thought about how what he said could have hurt his reputation. He eventually snapped back after patting his cheeks a couple of times and took a seat across from her.

“Sorry about that.” He breathed as he reached for the flagon taking a couple large gulps, “Name is Jaskier and you are?”

“H- Granger.” She was hesitant with giving her first name to someone she had just met especially since her first name screamed outsider and that was a conversation she would not like to have.

“Bit of a gruff name for a lady wouldn’t you say?” He teased, “Granger.”

“I guess.” She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks wondering if she was being called out about her name.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you by any means.” As he placed a hand on hers quickly removing it to reassure her, “It is a nice name.”

“Thanks.” Now she got why it was hard to get closer to him when he was at the table. He was a bit of a charmer. A little reckless but in a cute way. Seemed to have a good way of getting his foot in his mouth too.

“You must be hungry please!” He gestured to the untouched plate as he brought up portions of mashed potatoes smothering a piece of meat.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She couldn’t help but blush a little.

“Dear have some. It’s not all the time we get offered food especially when you travel with Geralt.”

“Why?” As she covered her mouth with her hand as she talked between mouthfuls.

“Ah.” As he folded his arms and grabbed the flagon again, “That’s your first witcher.” As he took several more glugs of ale.

“Oh. Well yes.” As she tried to hide her embarrassment.

“Don’t worry it’s not all that bad traveling with a witcher.” Returning to the plate before him, “I mean yes there are times when you run for your life from a monster, get tomatoes thrown at you from villagers, and good grief the amount of bodies on that man’s record.” He paused as he found himself not being his rather chipper self, “He’s great!” Trying to block out the past couple of days from his memory.

“Can I ask you several questions?” As she bit her lip with eager anticipation to receive some answers.

“By all means.” As he responded with a charming smile.

“Can he really cast spells? Is it true he looks the way he does because of mutations? Were those mutations alchemical or magical mutations? Why is his hair white? Does he just fight monsters?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask all the questions that came to mind in one go. She almost forgot how good it was to ask questions on topics she didn’t know, “Sorry.” She quickly apologised as Jaskier’s face became a little sullen as he found the questions were not about him or his songs.

“No, no, no it’s alright.” As he chuckled to himself, “I thought since you didn’t know Geralt you’d have some questions about me seeing how I’m starting to rise in popularity.” As he gestured around him and literally nobody gave him any attention to which he let out a sigh, “Right well here’s what I can tell you. Yes, he can cast magic, from what I gather he is mutated however he doesn’t talk about it much so I can’t tell you if it was purely alchemical or magical.” As he scratched his head thinking on it, “Might be a combination of both if I’m to be honest. The hair might be a birth defect or something, but yes he does kill monsters and a good number of people if I am to be terribly honest.”

“Ah, thanks!” As she tried to keep a mental note on all the information provided which was easy seeing it wasn’t much, “And does he need an implement like a wand or staff or something?”

“Hmmm.” Jaskier thought about this as he recollected the past couple of days, “Nope not once.”

“Fascinating.”

“You think so?” The man leaned back and looked at her quizzically, “I find it bloody terrifying at times.”

“And why’s tha-”

“FUCK!”

Hermione’s heart jumped to her throat as she heard what she could only assume was the witcher above them shouting. Quickly glancing at Jaskier his eyes were wide as he brought his hands to his face. She wasn’t sure if it was dread or embarrassment or a combination of the two but all she knew was that Jaskier was not happy about it. Shortly following the rather loud expletive was a series of rumblings and bang that raced along the room above. Jaskier’s head shot right up from his hands in puzzlement.

“Odd.” As he tried to reason it out, “With him it’s usually the other way around.” Then it hit him, “Everybody out!” As the man raced out of his seat trying to push people out of the tavern, “Monster! Everybody out! Except you, you, and you and can you grab me a piece of parchment and a pen?” As he pointed out several ladies who gave him no attention as they screamed past him.

“Here!” As Hermione raced up towards Jaskier with an equal level of enthusiasm.

Together they both sat near the bottom of the stairs but a fair distance away from them as the two of them sat on top of tables ready to take notes of this encounter. Jaskier smiled as she handed him a quill and some parchment, “Oh, even better you write and I’ll” as he reached for his lute, “Will work on the chords.”

Within a couple of minutes, the ruckus above them had gotten worse and worse with every passing moment. Several loud whooshing noises flooded down the stairs and Hermione took note of it as she hoped it was magic related. Several of the sounds later and she came to see Geralt and a strange figure falling down the stairs with him. It was not the same pretty lady she saw earlier until she noticed the same dress she had on prior to this encounter. Quickly she started to write down notes on its appearance and behaviour as she saw it. Her quill shaking rapidly as she tried to get a quick sketch of the monster in front of her while it fought the witcher. When she looked back up to get a better glimpse of the creature all she saw were two witchers now swinging swords every which way. Chairs and tables were being destroyed in their wake as the flourish of blades clashed against each other again and again like the other knew what they would do next. Then one shot a stream of fire from his hand. It caused the other to back off for a little until the flames dissipated. Then the witcher charged swinging one of his swords only to land on a sheer yellow barrier as the blade bounced harmlessly to the side as the witcher swung his blade and caught it in the side of the other.

Hermione’s heart seemed to have raced as she watched the witcher fall. However, seeing two of them made things confusing as she tried to work things out. The one most recently struck on the side was bleeding but even then, when the blade struck smoke seemed to rise from his body. She wondered if there was some alchemical coating that was applied to the blade beforehand. It was concerning until she noticed the grey skin about the wound from where the sword had hit. Looking closer at the sword held by the witcher who cast the barrier spell she found his sword was made of silver. That confirmed her suspicion as to which one was in imposter and which one wasn’t. However, she wished she had enough time to look away as the real Geralt severed a leg sending it flying about the room as the doppelgänger fell to a knee. She closed her eyes from that point as she knew what was coming next as she heard a thankfully unfamiliar rolling sound along the wooden floor.


	3. When Witch Meets Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to learn more about Witchers Hermione gets a little closer than she had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No nothing bad is going to happen. I mean yeah it gets violent but that is it. Enjoy!

“Who’s the girl?” Geralt nodded to Hermione whilst looking at Jaskier, “Don’t tell me she’s one of your…fans.”

“Quite the contrary she-”

“I’m a worker at the local apothecary shop.” Hermione interrupted as she tried to shield her eyes from the carnage that lay beneath her feet.

“You must be rather skilled given your age.” As Geralt observed her.

Hermione didn’t know what to expect getting this close to the witcher. He didn’t seem much like the rest of the witchers she was told about. Even then her knowledge was limited at best. This one was a bit more ruff around the edges than Jaskier provided her.

“She offered to help in recording the events that transpired to assist in my song writing.” As Jaskier broke Hermione’s train of thought.

“Is that so?” As Geralt cracked a small smile, “Take a look.”

Jaskier took the notes from Hermione. His eyes widened as he flipped though the small pages. They were filled with notes, sketches, and a list of strengths and weaknesses solely based on her current encounter. It was impressive to say the least. She even got a rather detailed portrait of the beast before the gruesome decapitation.

“Aw.” As Jaskier handed the notebook back to Hermione, “Granger I thought you were going to help capture the moment in a more creative way. Not a comprehensive study.”

“Impressive.” As Geralt intercepted it from Jaskier, “I have to admit you’ve got skilled hands for this type of work. If we had someone like you with us, we wouldn’t have to take too many trips to Kaer Morhen.”

“Kaer Morhen?” She couldn’t help but look puzzled.

“It’s where I learned to become a witcher.”  
“She’s been asking questions about you before your…encounter.” He couldn’t help but laugh as he thought about Geralts’ predicament.

“That it?”

“Well…” Hermione took back her notebook as Geralt handed it to her, “I did have some questions about magic. Like that spell you cast what was that and how did you do it?”

“It’s a barrier spell as you have observed and wrote in detail. It’s called Quen and the spell is performed by creating the sign with your fingers like so.” As Geralt moved his fingers along the triangular shape.

It was intricate but beautiful at the same time. Hermione had now seen magic performed in front of her for the third time in this world. With any hope she may be able to learn a thing or two from him. She only wanted to get back into the magical ebb and flow of things.

“I’m sure you also noticed what I did for the sign Igni?”

“I saw it’s function but the actual sign for it I missed it in all the excitement.”

“Here I’ll draw the symbol down for you.” Taking the book and quill from her he wrote the sign and an explanation of how the spell worked from a physical and mental standpoint, “Here give it a try.”

Hermione was happy at the chance to practice magic once again. It had been a while since she had been able to practice. She only hoped that it would lead to something favourable. Glancing at the sign and procedures she tried to commit them to memory. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to clear her mind as she did some practice signing with her fingers in the air. With an exhale she closed the book looked up and made the gestures for Quen. She could feel something stirring within her. It was a warm and tingling sensation like when she held her wand for the first time. It was a terrific experience as she felt that familiar sensation of magic flowing within her. She took her time to create the sign with her fingers as a light tracing of it held in the air. Jaskier stood in shock as he watched her slowly but surely start to cast a spell. Geralt on the other hand sat back with his arms crossed with a knowing smile about his face. Hermione felt a sense of pride as she watched the approving smile about the witcher’s face. Until she noticed something. It was ever so subtle, but it had become a problem to say the least. The start of her sign started to fade away whilst she was still completing it. Now she understood the smirk that Geralt was wearing. She quickly tried to finish the sign but by the time she had completed it the sign was corrupted and simply puffed into useless smoke before her. It was a relief she chose Quen as she feared what it would have been to try Igni and failed it.

“I take it you found the secret to signs?” As Geralt cocked an eyebrow at her as he watched the spell fizzle before her eyes.

“It’s a matter of speed isn’t it?” Hermione pondered as she reflected over the notes provided, “more of a matter of dexterity you could be as fast as you like but without dextrous digits you can’t execute the sign as efficiently.”

“Got a quick wit I’ll give you that.” Geralt genuinely smiled as she put the pieces together at a rather fast rate, “Have to admit I’m impressed you’d make a fairly good witcher but something tells me you aren’t a fan of melee combat.”

At this point Jaskier just sat there absolutely gobsmacked as he witnessed this exchange of words. Mainly because the most he gets out of Geralt is a series of grunts that occasionally varied a bit. Other than that, most of the witcher’s responses to what he had to say tended to be more physical in nature. At the same time however Jaskier was relieved to find someone who could crack Geralt’s hard shell and make him converse. It was rather touching to a degree.

“She may be of some use to us if she can channel magic.” Jaskier chimed, “It may be good for her to visit the Sisterhood.”

“Maybe but that is usually up for the Sisterhood to decide.” The witcher turned to Jaskier.

“The Sisterhood?” Hermione was interested but also confused as to what the two meant.

“The Sisterhood of Witches trained in the Academy of Aretuza.” And just like that Geralt was back to his gruff and coarse self.

What once was an amazingly cheery Jaskier became just a cheery Jaskier. Hermione didn’t know why the bard or that’s what she assumed his occupation was, was so happy about until she slowly started to put things together. Apparently Geralt was never this talkative. At least he hasn’t been this talkative in a long while judging from the bards’ behaviour. It was as if Geralt had some sort of barrier keeping him from expressing himself as much as Jaskier or herself were freely capable of doing. It made her heart sink a little concluding that Geralt seemed to not trust or possibly like them enough to keep an engaging conversation going for extended periods of time.

“So, are we headed to Aretuza?” Bard chimed gleefully striking a chord or two in the process.

“No.”

“But Geralt!” The bard chased after him stopping him before he reached the door using his own body as a barrier, “I know this is going to end up with your fist in my gut but first tell us why we’re not headed to the academy, please?”

Geralt let out a craggily sigh, “It takes a week to get there on horseback. And I’m the only one with a horse. That makes the trip three times longer if we must travel by foot. Finally,” As he brought himself closer to Jaskier, “She needs to show some potential before even being considered for the academy.”

Hermione kept on reciting the procedures in her head whilst the two talked things over. She had tuned them out at this point and frankly she didn’t have time to listen in. What really plagued her mind was trying to cast a spell. A simple one at that. Or so she thought. She knew there was a possibility here for her to cast spells without a wand she just had to crack the mystery behind it before pressing on. Fortunately for her, Jaskier was putting up a good fight with Geralt. Well not physically, Geralt would squash him like a bug. They argued for a good period till things clicked. Jaskier was buying time. She peeked over her shoulder quickly and shared a glance with the bard for a second or so as he made a gesture hinting for her to continue practicing. Thankfully things have quieted down to where the workers and some of the patrons started to push past Jaskier. Some praised the witcher for his efforts while others cursed at the mess he had left behind. Hermione felt a lump in her throat as she tried to get a grip on the sign whilst people were now entering back into the building.

“The key physically is dexterity” as she breathed out a sigh, “Mentally it is the strength of will.”

Hermione tried once again as the white lines of the sign started to form. A faint yellow tinge started to encircle the sign. She was so nervous she forgot to open her eyes. When she did her fingers skilfully traced the sign it seemed within the given time parameter. A sheer barrier like the one she saw on Geralt surrounded her. It was an exhilarating feeling. Being able to cast spells again. She quickly looked at Jaskier who gave her a thumbs up and tried to get Geralt to turn around to witness it. However, that was not what Geralt saw when he turned around and unfortunately for Hermione too.

“A witch!” One man shouted.

“It’s that seer girl!” Said another, “That little bitch summoned the monster in here ‘cause none of us were having it anymore with her little scheme.”

What should have been a peaceful day in. A wonderful day for Hermione. A day where she felt more like herself than since she had been here. Had now turned into a nightmare. She glanced over at Geralt who seemed furious about how things have unravelled so quickly. Hermione gasped as a full flagon of ale was tossed at her followed by several handfuls of meat chunks, mashed potatoes, and stale bread. On the bright side Quen stopped her from getting hit smack dab in the face with a heavy flagon. However, once that first item hit the barrier from Quen dissipated. Mashed potatoes hit her on the side of her face as it dripped down. Some of it got splattered up in her hair. The strange thing was she expected more to have hit her. With the first hit she had flinched and averted her gaze from the crowd. Then she noticed Geralt there. Slabs of meat batted to the side with ease while some he just let hit his breastplate. With a quick gesture a light blue glint could be seen around his person however incredibly brief as she heard the familiar gust-like sound. This sent most of the projectile food back with aggressive force. She couldn’t help but gasp as Geralt went for his iron sword the doppelgänger left on the floor.

“Geralt please don’t.” She begged him.

“Close your eyes.” As he put the sword away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not how he wanted his day to go. First the grumpy bard. Then the doppelgänger in bed. Now this. He was hoping he could get a flagon, maybe a meal, and then left to his own devices until morn. Now there were roughly four men who wanted to spill blood. Spilling blood was not the issue for Geralt. The issue was that this Granger girl. This strange girl who out of nowhere was able to use Quen on her second try asked him not to kill anybody. At least that was the message he took from it.

“Ay careful with that one he’s one of ‘em witchers!” said one.

“Pah, he’s just a bastard with two swords.” As another pulled out a knife, “Are you compensating for something?”

“Nah” said another, “He’s one of ‘em freaks probably got two pricks too!”

“Why is it you have two swords?” The last of them asked a little hesitant.

“You fuck’n deaf or do I need to loosen your tongue with my knife?”

Every damn time, Geralt thought to himself. Walks into a bar, kills a monster, yet people still see him as the only monster in the room. Even when throwing food at little girls. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened. However, there was something different about this one compared to all the other women he had helped in similar situations. He couldn’t help but let out a ragged sigh.

“Like that man said I’m a witcher.” As he eyed each one of them up, “You asked why I have two swords? It’s simple one is for monsters and the other…for humans.” He had a slight smile about his face as he turned to what seemed to be the leader, “Only got one prick though if you’re that curious.”

Seems like they were a little drunk or a little too stupid to take a hint and piss off like he hoped. He could smell the fear on them though. Each one of them. Though the man with the knife played cool he was practically in the same mental state as the last one who, just then, literally shat himself. He knew that this was going to be a milk run but then again, he hadn’t fought many monsters this week. Seems this would have to do for practice.

He watched carefully as to assess each of his opponents’ moves. As expected, the man with the knife was the first to be on the move. Although slightly drunk he was quick on his feet. Though, nothing compared to the speed and reflexes of a witcher. Geralt met him on the bar floor in the same second with the man’s arm over his one shoulder, his right foot behind the man’s legs, his left arm holding the man’s right, his right hand gripping the man’s face tightly. Within a series of quick decisive movements Geralt had broken the man’s jaw, left arm, and sent him plummeting to the tavern floor, so hard in fact that he bounced probably dislocating his hip as his knife stuck in the floor behind him. The second man came at him with a chair from behind. With another quick gesture of one of his favourite signs called Aard he shattered the chair causing only the two legs to strike either side of him on his shoulders. Compared to the monster he had fought on the road, this man might as well of attacked him with a pillow in each hand. With a quick upper cut and following kick to the stomach he heard the crunching of another man’s jaw as he turned several of his teeth into powder in his mouth. The kick sent him reeling back several feet shattering some ribs as he doubled over to puke. Geralt quickly grabbed one of the broken chair legs and swiftly whirled around to smash it in the third man’s face, shoulders, knees, and finally in the groin before shoving him face first on to the floor. He wondered if he was too cruel with that one as he heard the crunching noises of his bones giving way to his blows as the tendons vibrated like his eardrums when Jaskier sang. Now there was only one man left. Geralt walked up to him. Picked him up. The man couldn’t help but shat himself again. Geralt was disgusted but not enough by this one to do him any physical harm. He stood him upright and made another gesture emanating a sign with a green glow to it.

“Head home and wipe your ass.”

Just like that the conflict was over. As rumours have mentioned he didn’t even break a sweat. He turned around to make sure this Granger girl was taken care of or at the very least didn’t see what happened. There was Jaskier helping her clean the potatoes from her hair and face with about a dozen handkerchiefs that he was given as a token from previous…conquests for him to remember them by. Geralt was impressed. Usually Jaskier would take his time washing, pressing, and folding every one of them. Only presenting them if to brag about his past exploits or to show he still remembered the previous partner on the rare happenstance they walked by. At least in the moments when they would walk by without there husbands nearby. Jaskier had a type for sure. The married. And the widowed, lonely, depressed. Well pretty much anybody and everybody he could get. However, it still surprised him that Jaskier was being genuinely thoughtful towards this girl. Then again if Jaskier did anything to her he’d make that his last mistake.

It was strange he had only known her for a couple of seconds. Minutes at most. However, she reminded him of someone. Someone he had hoped to forget sooner than remember. The scent somehow entered his nostrils and lingered there. Lilac and gooseberries. He wasn’t sure why but something about her made him think of Yenn. It wasn’t her posture. Granger seemed to carry herself as a busy body while Yenn carried herself with an air of importance. Of power. Easily with enough power to make him bend over backwards for her. Their hair wasn’t anything to remind him of her. Granger had brown and Yenn’s was black as night. The only linking feature the two women had that he could assess other than their magical potential was their eyes. Although Yenn’s eyes were a mystical deep purple it wasn’t the colour that made them similar. It was the look that was held within them. A look of thirst. Of desire. Of want. A want to know more. To comprehend more. To control more through magical means. Yet with Granger there was a subtle hint to them. A soft and gentle aura about them. Her eyes sought those things but for a rather different end goal. Granger it seemed wanted to learn from all these things and by executing power she would gain knowledge and use that for the bettering of people around her.

Although that was a comfort there were still a lot of things, he didn’t know about the Granger girl. Where she came from. Who her parents were? And why she had a capacity to cast spells. Given his past with various spellcasters he had grown weary and uneasy of them. Most were easily just monsters in a different skin. He knew better than anybody. His body count on spellcasters were rather high. However, those were mainly wizards and sorcerers who tried to gain power and start conquest through ill means, inventors and wielders of dreadful magics that brought forth monsters. Or magic that turned people into monsters. But maybe she was different. Only time would tell. Worse case scenario she’d just be another body on his conscious, that is if he could find it in that regard. He let out a gruff sigh that grabbed the girl’s and bard’s attention.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” the two of them responded at the exact time laughing as they realised the comedy behind their unwitting timing.

“Yes.” Geralt could tell he was going to regret this, but he didn’t want to crush this girls’ hopes, it was almost like she had imprinted on him without him realising until just now.

“Yes?” Hermione was still a little baffled.

“Geralt I love you I really do but you need to use more words…” as his voice trailed off as he started to put two and two together, “Oh! Really Geralt? I hope you aren’t kidding! Wait that wouldn’t make any sense at all you never kid. Oh, Granger this is going to be exciting!”

“What is?” For a smart girl she was having a bit of difficulty following their train of thought. Then again, she was a little overwhelmed by the amount of violence her senses had absorbed over the past couple of minutes.

“The Academy miss Granger!” As Jaskier’s eyes began to light up, “The Academy of Aretuza!” He started to strum several cords on his lute.

“C’mon Granger” as Geralt picked her up and placed her on her feet, “before he starts singing let’s get out of here.”

He could have sworn he heard Jaskier break a string, “And what is wrong with my singing?!?”

Granger let out a laugh trying to hid it as to not offend Jaskier’s feelings as they made their way back into the pouring rain, “I mean I’ve killed monsters whose screams of pain and agony sound more pleasing than you.”

“I beg your pardon Sir!” Jaskier falling behind them cried indignantly as he covered up his lute again, “Wait we’re going now? But it’s pouring! Geralt? Geralt!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione couldn’t help but blush a little as Geralt escorted her to his horse. The blush went away quickly, however, when he took the reins and saddle up on his horse. She stood there a little gobsmacked as she watched him turn his horse around and slowly canter towards the gate. Hermione could feel a little heat building up around her cheeks. After all he did for her it seemed like she didn’t earn her keep yet to ride his horse. She was wondering what she would have to do to get that chance. Maybe if she faked being ill? No that would be silly. Sure, he was big and strong and could easily carry her while on horseback but knowing him he’d probably just camp outside until she got better than had her walk on foot. Still a girl could imagine what it would be like sitting up on his horse with the witchers arms around her. She knew that witchers were something that the people should fear but there was something about him that made him seem. Different. Not that all the stories she had heard about them so far were untrue there was just something that made him stand out from the rest.

“Ah. Yes, I forgot to tell you two important things.” Jaskier panted lightly as he caught up with her, “Nobody rides Roach but Geralt” as he held up a finger, “and he’ll leave you behind if you don’t catch up.” He quickly raised the second finger before smiling and taking her hand to help her catch up with the witcher.

“This is terribly exciting!” She couldn’t help but yell above the rain.

“I know!” The bard grinned with her.

She couldn’t believe she was now on an adventure. Well sort of. From her standpoint this was all an adventure for her, but this twist of events made things much more interesting. Hopefully traveling with Geralt and Jaskier would give her the insights she needed not only to learn more about the function of magic in this world but of the people and monsters that inhabited it. She wanted to learn so much. The history of the world, politics, inhabitants, cultures, customs, and so much more! However, what she needed to learn now more than ever was how to run fast in a waterlogged dress to catch up with a man on horseback.

Hermione was excited to leave the town but also a little torn. Sure, her last couple of hours had been a little hectic and hostile. But she would miss the time she had spent in the abandoned house with the godling. Well some of the times with the godling. Other times were just terrifying like when the tables and chairs would move when she came home with groceries. Or when a frog hopped out of her mouth into her soup another time. She would, however, miss the time she spent with the shopkeeper at the apothecary. Gathering herbs and flowers, prepping them for tinctures, syrups, decoctions, and other sorts of formulae. Hermione did feel a twinge bad about forgetting the lady’s name though. She had that problem at times where a subject would seem so interesting to where some information like a person’s name would slip her mind. She would miss the days where she’d sweep the floor and look out the window and think of the world of possibilities before her.

However, that was the exciting thing about what was going on here and now. She was chasing those possibilities that she had formulated in her head. Well technically she was chasing a man on a horse with an equally drenched man with a lute headed for an academy she had never heard of. But still! There were plenty of days between here and the academy and she could only imagine what possibilities and experiences lay before her. Never mind she had two handsome men to keep her company on the trip. She couldn’t help but feel like a giddy schoolgirl while being around these two. From the jovial charisma and charm of the bard to the well chiselled physique and ruggedness of the witcher she couldn’t help but get a little rosy cheek. She just hoped the rain would stop in the next day or so or this would turn out to be an even rougher journey than she had expected.


	4. A Grim Reminder

It was terribly dark. Geralt couldn’t help but try to look around trying to figure out where he was. From the sound of it he wasn’t the only one here. Some had heavy breathing while others wet themselves. The light dripping sensations pitter-pattered along the stone floor. Each of them was strapped in it seemed at an angle roughly sixty degrees. What little light that filtered in through the grate was from a torch from the area above. It was dim and provided little to no help. Glancing around they were all along their mid-twenties like him. He could only imagine that it was the other kids he had grown up with here in Kaer Morhen. Each of them came to the castle at a really young age. He was brought in at five. Given a sword and went to work. Some of the others were brought in from what seemed like at birth.

“Alright pups it is now time to begin the trial of the grasses.” As the larger white-haired man grouchily entered the room as he slammed the tray on to the table near the centre of the room.

His eyes shown in the in the dark. Much like a cat. The tray itself was filled with all manner of fungus and other herbs and spices. Vesemir was probably the oldest inhabitant here at Kaer Morhen. He worked hard teaching and training each of the kids here as they reached adulthood. They had been taught in the way of the sword, axe, spear, bow, and been provided with volumes of books. Each one of these books contained detailed information on a multitude of monsters. Providing details such as anatomy, physiology, hormones, pheromones, behaviours, pack tactics, strategies, and mutations. The old man came back with another tray filled with a series of vials, bottles, burners and the like the students or as he called them ‘pups’ used to make decoctions, tinctures, syrups, and other alchemical concoctions to assist them in their training and fighting programs. Due to their nature the pups have been given ‘water downed’ renditions of these. The effects of them were similar and helpful but if they were to have any of them at their full strength these pups would be dead within seconds.

“Now I will be perfectly frank with you. Thirty to forty percent of you will survive.”

Some of the boys were getting a little scared as they rattled in their confines. Some started to piss themselves more as they watched Vesemir grind up various herbs, heating them, making a thick gooey substance that he scooped up with a ladle. It was pungent to say the least. Due to the arrangement there were only ten people set in each session of the trial of the grasses. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was the original set up of this section of the lab and was just left this way or if it was made this way due to the survival rate as Vesemir stated. He started to watch Vesemir go round with the ladle and pot as each one of the pups slurped down the strange mixture.

Each student started to gag some would spit as they tried to break out of their confines. Vesemir brought the gooey substance to Geralt. It was even worse up close than when it was originally created. It smelled of faeces and fungus swirled in what it seemed to be salt water. He opened his mouth as Vesemir poured the substance. The taste was worse than he imagined it would have been. It was like drinking herbs marinated in stomach acid regurgitated from a pig. The taste was more and more awful as time passed until his mouth went numb. Then his arms started to seize. His heart rate raced as his body became sore. He tried to close his eyes to distract him from the pain but the muscles that controlled them kept them wide open.

His nerves started to burn in waves. Muscles would chill as they shook within his confines. Yet some of the transitions were more painful for others. Some of the other pups tried to cry out in agony as some near drowned in their own spit. Others would have their eyes roll to the back of their head as their arteries turned from blue to red to black as they violently shook in place. Others already started to foam at the mouth. It was sickening but Geralt didn’t have the capacity to pay any further attention. He was starting to undergo an even more dramatic reaction that he had previously witnessed. His head locked into position as he was forced to stare at the ceiling. However, his vision failed him locking on the grate above him. His eyes fixated on the flickering light of the torch above that barely filtered through. Then everything went pitch black.

Geralt then found himself deep in the woods. The sky was dark. Not even the moon was visible. He walked through the woods and tried to find a clearing. Each step was agony as he reached the clearing. It was large and circular with a solitary large stone smack dab in the centre. He knew he was in forest, but he couldn’t even smell the familiar scents that came to be being in the woods. The sweet smell of grass fell void as the scent of pine needles in this clearing of evergreens led to nothing more than the bland smell of bottled air. Upon entering the clearing his footsteps became easier like he was walking on air almost. However, his footsteps would become heavy again and transition back and forth. It was a struggle to reach the boulder in the centre of the clearing. His ears started ringing as it eventually followed the motions of his heartbeat. Fast. Irregular. Geralt tried to gather his senses as he exercised his ability to control his breathing. He didn’t even know why this boulder was so important to him. Yet for some reason he was being brought to it. Called to it even. As he approached the boulder the stars started to fill the night sky. The moon oddly started to flow through the motions as it would over a month in a manner of seconds. It went through several new moons before landing on a full moon right above the boulder.

Upon reaching the boulder the weight of his body caused him to fall to his knees. The stars seemed to have fallen from the sky as they fell towards the centre of the clearing. Each one of them became a point building up along the boulder. Dripping upon the surface like droplets of rain into a small puddle. Except the light from it built up until assuming the form of a wolf. The wolf howled sending shivers down Geralt’s spine. It was not a normal howl. Rather it was more like the mixture of high and low screaming of souls of the damned. It pierced the ears like the light of the sun pierced the eyes with agonizing pain. Geralt couldn’t tell when the howl was going to end he tried to grip his ears to dampen the sound of the wailing pains of men, women, and children but it seemed that the sounds radiated within her head rather than outside of it. What should have been a minute seemed like days’ worth of pain and torment inside his head. As the howl tapered off a pillar of light cascaded down from the moon till it rested upon them both as it slowly opened until it filled the outline of the clearing. What was grim darkness was now becoming bright light as space itself lost all meaning.

“Greetings wolf.” Came the powerful rush of authority from this spectral visage.

“W-what is happening?”

“Have you already forgotten?” The wolf tilted its head as it neared him, “You’re in the trial of grasses.”

“Am I passing?”

“That is for you to decide.”

Upon such Geralt found himself in a dirt field. His strength slowly began to return to him as the rain continued to fall. Looking about him, he thought he woke up from his dream. He stirred slowly as he let the rain fall upon his face. Upon stirring up he wiped the rain from his face. Which proved to be useless and shocking. He also noticed his gloves weren’t on. Unfortunately for him he was startled by the crimson liquid that started to drip on his hand. He had seen blood before. However, he had not yet killed a man at this time. To his knowledge he only attacked practice dummies save the occasionally sparring match but even then, they used dulled swords.

What didn’t make any sense was how throngs of the dead began to clamber out of the crimson covered soil. His heart began to race as they crawled towards him. The occasional monster swept by lapping up the smaller ones. A mighty roar echoed through the distance as the masses scuttled past him. Some clambered over him while others tried to stop and drive their teeth into his flesh. To save his life, he broke one of the undead monsters’ arms pushing it through the mass of muscle and tendons. With a swift twist and pull he removed the heavy mass of calcium from the body and drove the club like joint into several of the beasts faces. However, his reflexes and speed were nothing in comparison to the masses of undead that flooded from the ground like swelling waves upon the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione woke up with a drizzly nose. This was the last thing she wanted to think about. She stirred lazily from the tree she leaned on knowing that her hair was a little wilder than in days previous. It took some time to wipe the dust from her eyes. She was a little terrified as she watched Geralt toss and turn in his sleep. It reminded her of times when she used to have nightmares, she’d wake up to her mother caressing her hair behind her ears. She wondered if it was possible to do the same. She didn’t know whether stroking his hair seemed safe. From a cursory glance and her previous experience, it screamed danger.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking don’t do it.” She jumped as Jaskier warned her.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Trust me I’ve seen that look” as he pulled himself up to a puddle and splashed water along his face, “it doesn’t end well.”

“May I ask why you’re awake so early?”

“Trust me Granger you don’t want Geralt to wake you up it is rather unpleasant.”

“Oh.”

“May I ask you a question?” as Jaskier dragged himself up towards her tree.

“Sure, I guess.” She looked down and tried brushing her hair to make it seem less unkempt.

“Why are you doing this? What caused you to try and perform the witchers signs?”

“It was something I had to do.”

“Had to or wanted to?”

“Well it’s a bit of both if I’m to be honest.” As she turned towards Jaskier, “From where I’m from magic is not terribly common in most areas but for those few areas that is it practiced it is a beautiful thing. I just wanted to obtain that state of living again.”

“I see, so you’re used to being able to cast spells and such then?”

“Yes and no. When I’m at school. At home its different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Do all people go to a form of higher education where you’re from?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter now.”

“It should matter we’re headed to an academy.”

The two of them laughed as they sat under the tree conversing about what her life was like before coming to this world. Leaving some details out as to not scare Jaskier away but still give him a pretty good depiction of everyday life was like for her. It was relieving to get some of the drama out of her system. She took some time with him watching the sun rise lazily above the trees. It had been four days since they started their journey to the academy. Jaskier played some tunes for her on his lute and caught her up on some of the lore of the realm. Unfortunately, for Jaskier his singing woke up Geralt to which he threw a rock at the bard knocking the wind out of him as the bard raised his lute above his shoulders.

“Sleep well Geralt.” As he choked in air.

The only response he got was a low grunt as Geralt made his way to his waterskin in Roach’s saddle bags. He took some of the venison from the fireplace they made the night before and took several bites as he strapped on his swords and clambered up on his saddle. Jaskier picked himself up quickly and helped Hermione up. He knew that look and what it meant was riding off without a word. Jaskier stomped out the what little embers remained alight from the night before. The morning was still early as the sky was in hews of purples and yellows. It was common for Geralt to get up this early in the morning, say nothing, and then just continue to make his way towards the next objective.

Hermione was still struggling with that agenda though. She was used to a comfortable waking time in blankets on a soft bed. Even when in Bralor she was more comfortable than she was on the dirt road. She would have deeply appreciated a faster mode of transportation. Car, bus, train, broom, even a couple of extra horses would prove more useful than following behind the witcher on horseback. Even if there were brigands with horses, she knew that Geralt would handle them and we could use their horses.

It was a long day with little to offer. There came a point in time where she stayed back with Jaskier and listened to him perform more of his songs. She was glad when Geralt stopped and they prepared for lunch. He tied his horse up by a nearby tree and made his way further into the woods. She and Jaskier searched in the opposite side of the road for twigs and tinder to start a fire with. Taking the time around the temporary campsite she took this as an opportunity to practice casting the witcher signs. She opened her notebook and glanced happily through the weathered pages as she read up and waved her hand through the series of signs. Hermione started with Igni lighting up the small bundle of sticks and twigs. With Aard she cleared the path behind her to hide their tracks. It was possible but didn’t work as well as she hoped. The road was still too muddy to the point where Roach’s hooves still imprinted a bit too deep. As for the other signs she had to give herself some time before going any further with it. She would hate to use them and have it been troublesome for her companions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt tried to fight the haunting process that was recalled upon his waking moments. He had flashbacks while roaming through the woods. It was refreshing not having anyone nearby. He missed having time to himself. He thought he could smell something. Kneeling he checked the ground for prints. Poultry prints. It was near impossible for most common people but given the scratch marks around the dirt and the scent of pheasant that flooded his nostrils. He grabbed his knife from near his boot and waited for the opportune moment. He followed the tracks until they ran cold. Then he switched to relying solely on scent. From what it seems his prey had decided to fly to another section of the woods. He tried his best to shake his mind of what transpired that night.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It still haunted him. The screaming. The piss. Blood welling up in the abandoned lands where he found himself. He was still confused about the wolf. Sure, it was of his schools’ mascot but even then, it made no logical sense. Did the other schools witness their mascot during the trial of the grasses? It was a nightmarish time. Wondering. Waiting. Keeping his cool to the best of his abilities. By the time it came for his trial to finish he was one of only three that survived the trial now. When he had finished recovering, he drew himself a bath. The water was nice. Hot to the point where he could see steam rising off the surface of the water. He ignored the splashing as he got settled in. The hairs of his chest clung to his no overwhelmingly rippling pectorals.

He let out an irritated sigh as he saw his hair in his reflection. It was odd seeing it white as Vesemir’s. It was also unsettling staring back at his own reflection as the bright cat eyes stared back at him. He found it useful though, being able to see in the dark. He was especially appreciative of the newfound reflexes and strength the trial of grasses provided him. Unfortunately, that was not the last of his mutation processes. It seemed he had an unusual immune system that got further enhanced due to the mutations that occurred during his first trial. The first round of mutations increased his metabolism, strength, and finally gave him a higher resistance to most poisons. As a side effect his mutations caused a system shock that made his hair white. Further mutations continued to make his strength greater. His reflexes faster. And immune system approached superhuman. As a result of his incredibly fast metabolism it seemed to help maintain his youth. This explained a lot about Vesemir. He would try and explain the many ways to improve on their fighting techniques. However, there were many times his stories seemed a little outdated. He wondered if he should ask Vesemir how old he was. There was room for more knowledge to be obtained from his days now long past. Vesemir used to have a great amount of knowledge concerning the various forms and mutations of monsters he had encountered. Now it seemed he sent out the other witchers to go and gather information for him. Sometimes he would be fortunate enough to have live samples down into the lab. Sometimes the screams and wails from the species brought to him could reach the highest point of Kaer Morhen. For everyone else beyond the border it seemed nothing more than the wind passing through the trees. Still he wondered what he would have to do to achieve Vesemir’s level of skill and wisdom. However, Vesemir was getting old compared to his stories his reflexes were not as fast as they used to be even his metabolism when wounded seemed to be a little slow when compared to his stories. Even then his recovery from this series of mutations drained his energies to the point of which even with his newfound metabolism it took some time for his faculties to be restored.

He let out another sigh as he tried to push out those memories from his mind. Resting his arms, he sunk further into the tub unfortunately for him the tub was too small for his frame as his feet popped out and hung around the rim. Geralt closed his eyes as he tilted his head back letting it rest on the other side of the tub. He hummed an old Skellige bar song. It was terribly soothing as he let his troubles melt away in the hot water. Until he got a nip on his butt.

“I don’t like it when you do that Yenn.” As he threw out a weird crustacean from the bathtub.

“C’mon Geralt surely you know I find it funny. And besides I’m only here for one more night. Surely we can find a practical use for your newfound metabolism.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long time out on the road since lunch and the sun had been far from set when Geralt decided to make camp. He had fallen asleep almost immediately once he tied Roach on yet another nearby tree. Hermione was relieved as Geralt kept them away from the main roads during the night. It was great because then she could continue to practice on the signs. A smile curled at the edges of her lips as she saw the purple light emanating around the rune. The sign acted as a ward of sorts to prevent any ease of movement near the camp. Hermione sat near the fire as Jaskier tuned his lute, played a couple of songs, yawned through the first two, wrapped it up, and fell asleep.

Hermione liked camping out like this. It wasn’t something she did on a regular basis back at home. Her parents were dentists and even though they had enough income and time on their hands to pursue such activities. It’s just given the choice of camping or staying in at home and enjoying time reading or watching a film together her parents preferred to stay inside. However, her time spent with Harry and Ron sneaking out of the castle grounds to go meet Hagrid at his firepit was a great relief. Sure, she was worried about getting into trouble as they were sneaking out of school grounds in the middle of the night and afraid of detention, harm, death, or even worse expulsion from school. She wondered what Harry and Ron were up to. Hermione was unsure of what her transportation meant in terms of her existence in her home world. She was surprised at how little thought she gave it. It had been a little over a month and she was surprised at how little thought she gave towards her memories back in Hogwarts with her friends. She only hoped that the rendition of her in the past continued to exist past this point. She hoped even more that her mistake created an alternate timeline to where either she still existed in that world or it created an alternate universe that didn’t need her. She couldn’t help but get a little sad at the idea of not existing in an alternate universe. Hermione hope she would be in every alternate universe. Ideally being helpful in some way or another. It wasn’t the case here though. Jaskier seemed to enjoy her company it was good for the two of them to have someone to talk to as they traversed what she could only imagine as dangerous terrain. It was nice being with other people. She couldn’t imagine what it meant for Geralt. From her brief conversations with Jaskier the witcher had more than enough time alone. Almost like he preferred it that way. She was almost completely lost in thought as she watched the fire dance before her.

“Wolves asleep amidst the trees” Hermione perked up as she heard the voice drifting along the forest, “Bats all a swaying in the breeze.”

It was enchanting. Alluring even. The words echoed through the gentle breeze and seemed to swirl within her head.

“But one soul lies anxious wide awake. Fearing all manner of ghouls, hags, and wraiths.”

Hermione found it chilling. But also, terribly intriguing. Almost spellbound. She could feel herself being driven to explore. Although, she didn’t like the idea of leaving Jaskier and Geralt she did want to investigate. Perhaps there was a village nearby. Maybe this was a hermit who lived in the outskirts. Maybe she was lost and sung to calm her nerves.

“For your dolly Polly sleep has flown. Don't dare let her tremble alone. For the Witcher, heartless, cold. Paid in coin of gold. He comes, he'll go. Leave naught behind. But heartache and woe. Deep, deep woe.”

It wasn’t the case at all. Hermione could tell that it was another woman. However, she was not panicked at all. She seemed calm and reserved as she teasingly walked within sight of her camp. Hermione felt a certain calling that urged her to come closer. The woman continued singing as she made her way deeper into the woods. Hermione tried to fight off the urge to follow the melancholy tone that swept through the woods. It took all her mental facilities to ignore the strange yet enchanting tune. However, it didn’t seem to be the case. Instead she got up immediately, leaving her shoulder bag, books, quill, and tools behind. She tried to fight the urge but found herself swept away. Hermione followed her into the woods both in search of answers and because she lacked the will to resist. It was like she had been charmed like a sailor by a siren. This resulted in a form of her that didn’t seem to want to resist. So mindlessly she wandered deep into the woods.

“He'll chop and slice you. Cut and dice you. Eat you up whole. Eat you whole.”


	5. The Blood and Guts of it all

Hermione awoke groggily. Her head pounded as she felt her heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Stirring from her slumber she glanced about her to find herself in a rather large room. It was finely crafted. Pillars of marble were at the corners of the room and the walls themselves were majorly white with a gold trim separating a deep red that flowed down the rest of the wall in stark contrast to the white which could easily blend into the marble pillars giving it a sense of being larger than it looked had it not been for the red paint giving her some parameter to work with. The bed she found herself in was ruby in colour and was made of fine satin. Hermione looked about her person and found her dress missing. It had been replaced with a white and blue trimmed nightgown. It was a little old-timey in her opinion as it had long sleeves that ruffled at the ends. However, it was terribly comfy compared to her cotton dress which felt more like weathered down cardboard in comparison. The floor was wooden but there was a large rug that covered most of the floor. Hermione found it interesting that the curtains were drawn as she saw the light trickling in through the thin cracks where the fabric met. A gentle knock on the door made her turn her head quickly.

“Sorry to intrude” as a lady came in with a golden tray containing a kettle and two cups on saucers, “Glad to see you up and about miss?”

“Granger.” she wasn’t sure what to do so she curtsied.

“Ah Miss Granger then” as she gave a curtsey in return as a little giggle escaped her, “Lady Eleanor Bruxa wishes you good health and that you enjoy your stay here at her manor.”

“H-her manor?” there was a strange mix of excitement and caution.

“Yes, Miss it seemed Lady Bruxa found you on one of her night strolls all alone in the woods” as she sat at the foot of the bed and placed the tray down, “Poor thing you were probably cold and starving out there all by yourself.”

“I wasn’t-” as she tried to recollect what happened from the day before.

It was crazy but she couldn’t remember for the life of her what exactly was going on. She had wondered if it had all been a dream. The bard and the witcher. Thinking back as far as she could it seemed that there was nothing, not even a vague memory of them. She could remember Dur and working at the apothecary but that was it really. Looking back on it she had wished that she had spent more time with the godling. He was mystical and magical and in a sense all she planned to be around. It was much like living with a free house elf. She had wondered where he had wondered off to. Sure, they had a difference in opinions when it came to playing games, but she still enjoyed his company, nonetheless. Learning magic from him was exciting in theory but near impossible in practice.

From what Dur could explain to her magic was more than just an energy or incantation of words and ritualistic motions and drawings. It was a complex mixture of logic and feeling. For Dur he explained it as eating worm and mud pies for breakfast, a fart contest with his friends, and a long nap before going out and nicking supper after scaring people with maggots in their food between bites. It was a little hard for Hermione to grasp at. It seemed a little Neverland-ish. Like thinking happy thoughts caused magic to ebb and flow to her will? It seemed a little too childish. But for Dur it worked and that somewhat got under her skin. She could think of all the good that came to her mind. All the happy moments, but they all seemed to have dark clouds around them. Her thoughts while trying to cast spells with Dur were all centred around trying to find her way around this crazy world. It filled her with an air of excitement but also despair as she had no clue what she was doing. It bothered her more as Dur couldn’t properly explain where the logical explanation of how magic was used when powered by happiness.

“Poor thing” said the maid while bringing the tray closer, “Well Miss Granger take this it will help wake you up.”

“Thanks?” as she warily took the cup and saucer from the tray.

“Thought you might like something warm is all. Gathered the herbs for it fresh this morning.”

At first the sight of it made Hermione’s skin crawl. The liquid was scarlet. Deep. Rich. Scarlet. However, as she brought her mouth closer to the rim of the cup, she could smell the faint gentle aroma of roses. Curiosity drove her to taking in a sip or two as it was still rather hot. There was a generous amount of honey added to it but only to give it a little of its flavour without overpowering the other herbs and berries added to the mix. Though some flavours were just hinting rather tame amounts of razzberry and citrus the most overwhelming flavours were the rose and lemon. It was enough lemon to identify its somewhat bitter notes, but the contrast of the rose and compliment of the honey brought her to a state of calm blissfulness. She heaved a sigh as she savoured the flavours with each new mouthful as she drank it gratefully.

“I am glad you find it to your liking miss” as she took away the now empty cup with its accompanying saucer and placed the kettle on the nightstand next to her bed, “Should you need more it will be right her. However, I should inform you that Lady Bruxa looks forward to having you for supper.”

“Supper? Supper tonight?” she asked sceptically.

“Yes, the lady Bruxa would like to spend the night to know you much better over dinner. You have no allergies, do you?”

“No ma’am-” as she bit her lip not knowing if that was proper etiquette.

“Ra’jel” she blushed, “Ra’jel will do just fine miss I am just a worker here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright miss” as she pressed her apron down as she got up from the edge of the bed again, “Feel free to have a nap if you need. However, should you require any help or assistance feel free to ring the appropriate bells located to your left.”

With that Ra’jel curtseyed and the two of them laughed about it as it seemed to become an inside joke to them. She left Hermione in the rather luscious room without making so much as a sound on the way out. Quickly she pinched herself to assure she wasn’t dreaming. The stinging pain only confirmed it. Part of her wanted to lay in bed for a little while longer under the heavily feathered duvet. It had that certain level of warmth that brought comfort to a good night’s sleep yet wasn’t too warm as to indicate it escalating to a rather hot night. But why was she thinking it was morning and rather late in the morning based on the light that tried to crawl in through the curtains. They were thick and velvet layered multiple times as to kill the light as it hit them. The room itself would have been terribly dark had it not been for the number of oil lamps that graced each pillar.

Looking to her left she saw a series of pull strings made of finely crafted gold that rested on finely carved black marble that had a graceful swooped neck to them. A stark contrast to the white, red, and gold motif but it made them stand out all the better. Little gold plaques rested above each of the strings each saying something different:  
Bath  
Massage  
Breakfast  
Dinner  
Supper  
Dessert  
Transport  
She wondered what purpose each one of them had. Certainly, it was to alarm someone concerning the topic chosen. The real question was how it was supposed to be executed. The first option seemed the direst of all the other options and the most fitting given her current set of circumstances. Dragging herself out of bed she noticed in horror as she was still covered in dirt and mud along her hands and feet. Thankfully there was a full body sized mirror laid with gold that sat lazily along the right-hand wall. It was difficult to find as she thought it was just another section of rather large windows. It seemed like it had been recently washed and dusted almost as if nobody had occupied this room in a while. That or the cleaning crew was very thorough if not a little hurried. She seemed a little concerned as she made her way to the mirror.

“Potatoes?” she was absolutely puzzled at the starchy mass clumped and pressed into her hair.

This was going to be more of a burden getting it out that she thought. Sure, she could just try and break it off and toss it aside. But it barely resembled potatoes at this point. She only knew it was potatoes due to its consistency as the colouration was grey almost black. It made her a little sick to her stomach thinking about how long it had been in there. Never mind it grossed her out with how long it had been since she had a bath. Let alone a shave. Sure, it didn’t seem like something the women did around here in this era, but it was something she needed. Just to spoil herself a little if anything else. She made her way over to the strings and gave the one labelled ‘bath’ two tugs. She was a little uncertain as what to do next. Sure, she had read books about people living in such estates and had an understanding of the bell system and all the workers that were involved to maintain such a place she just didn’t know how long it would take for things to be ready. Even when they were ready how would she know? Would they ring the bell back in response? No that didn’t seem right she thought to herself. Another gentle knock on the door startled her briefly.

“I am ready to escort you down to the bath m’lady” came a muffled voice on the other side of the door.

Uncertain of the protocol here Hermione grabbed a robe that hung on a coat hanger next to what seemed to be a wardrobe and dresser set. She wrapped it around her hastily as to not irritate the person waiting on the other side of the door. She was a little concerned as she opened a door to a man clad in proper butler like apparel. He didn’t utter a word from that moment on. It seemed he didn’t even pay attention anymore. Once she had opened the door he had promptly turned around and made his way down the stairs. She had to do a little sprint to catch up with him. Hermione wondered in awe as she saw the many beautiful works of art that littered the walls of the manor. Light spilled in through the windows as they walked down the stairs covered in a red carpet. The building itself was of intricate make. Marble stone ebbed and flowed from white to black in a series of tantalizing shades in between. The walls themselves were covered in incredibly detailed depictions of cherubs and beautiful displays of mountains and trees. Everything in this manor spoke for the owner. This Lady had status, power, and wealth. However, the details did not portrait anything about her appearance or how she came into obtaining such a wonderful assortment of wonderful things.

Hermione continued to follow the butler. Man servant. Whatever he was called. Until he brought her to a set of dark wood doors intricately carved to depict a series of elven minstrels playing their respective instruments at the start of a babbling brook. She was taken aback as the door was laid with gold to give an extra level of detail to the graceful figures. A rush of steam greeted her as two servants opened the doors and Hermione’s mouth dropped. There were several dividers one stood next to a series of drawer that seemed to be filled with ointments, perfumes, and towels. Another divider hid yet another large mirror of similar design which had cabinets sitting on either side of it. The third divider had a long table pressed up against the wall which held several sections of folded fabric next to the table was a metal door that was only about at high and as wide as her forearm. The floor was made of marble and a long rug stretched from each of the main walls meeting at the corners. Several rugs were placed along the steps that led to the tub. The tub itself was massive from the looks of it. It was circular in shape and was held in a square frame that was layered until it reached the parameter of the basin. Small grooves were carved points from along the basin to the frame of the tub as little holes made filled with metal pipe let water flow down into the basin. The water had almost entirely reached the brim. The scent of oils was inviting as rose petals danced along the surface of the water.

“Should you need any further assistance you may either ring a bell on the panel to your right or knock on the door.” And with that the men by the doors closed them behind him as he attended his other duties.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My, Geralt” as Yenn laid back in bed as he rested her head on a stuffed unicorn, “I should visit more often.”

“If you did no monster hunting would get done.” As Geralt collapsed next to her.

“Maybe that is the point.” As she ran her fingers through his chest hair.

“Not much of a point then if I let monsters flourish across the land.”

“My you know how to sweet talk a woman.” She teased as she snuggled up closer to him and kissed his cheek.

However, Geralt’s mind was somewhere else. Back to that day. Back to the trial of grasses. He could have sworn he killed nearly a thousand undead as the blood rain came to a stop. His breathing heavy. His limbs sore and aching as he crawled off the pile of battered corpses. Geralt’s body was telling him to stop but his mind and heart raced on and on. Something talked. No. Screamed danger in the back of his mind. No matter how much he wanted to rest he wanted to find the cause of his torment. He slid several times along the pile of corpses before hitting solid ground with a THUD. Rolling to his side he glanced up to the sky. It was an inky blackness, yet he could still see things clearly. In the distance he saw a pillar of smoke rising from beyond the horizon.

Straining to find much more strength he was able to grab enough to bring himself to his feet. Once at that point all he had to do was walk. If only it were that easy. Each step brought back a memory from his past. The fields he used to run through when he was a child. Scabs he picked at across his arm and head when his father beat him. His mother wrapping him in warm cloth she held by the fire on dark and stormy nights. He tried to cling on to that memory as he made his way forward.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Those nights were his favourite as she would tell him the most wonderful of stories. Of knights and princesses trapped in castles guarded by dragons. The way she would tell them to appease his young imagination made them almost seem real. Then his father would come in stinking of alcohol. Only to beat his wife and in turn his son as he tried to be brave like the knights in his mother’s stories. He was glad the day men in armour came and took him away one day. His father was only gone for several days. He returned in the back of a cart welcomed home as a hero. A hero cold as stone. There was nothing the young boy could do to bring a smile back to her face as she wept over her dead husband. He tried to cheer her up by telling one of his favourite stories but instead he screamed in terror as he found a set of yellow eyes staring at him from the window. Amidst her crying she encouraged her boy to hide as she went to the door.

“Seems like a bad time to visit.” The white-haired man said at the door.

“We don’t want your kind here!” She cried, “I have just lost my husband and the same day I get the news is when you decide to show up?”

“His death is the reason why I am here.” He responded in more of a growl than sombre tones, “I am here as dictates the law of surprise.”

“N-no” her eyes widened as tears streamed down her face, “You can’t have my baby!”

“It is the law!” as he barged his way in moving the woman aside as he grabbed her by the wrist, “Now where is the boy?!”

“You bastard!” she spit in his face.

“Fine I’ll find him on my own” as he cast the woman out of her own home sealing it shut with a sign, “Now boy where are you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geralt shook himself out of his near dreamlike state. By now the outline of a building could be seen clearly. Only to cause him to stand still in terror. It had a familiar air about it. The stinging in his limbs started to slowly fall away as he neared the gates that surrounded this building. They were nothing but simple sticks placed in the mud. Most had fallen over while the rest were broken. Some in several places. The home was made of simple wood and mud like many of the others, but something seemed to call him towards it. He made his way to the door as he passed a withered bush that sat nearby what used to be a flower bed from the looks of it. The door was battered in several places as only the bottom half of it still barely clung to the wall on its hinges.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“C’mon boy you are coming with me whether you like it or not.” As he paced the floor opening the cupboards and spilling some of their contents on the floor.

With what little time he had the boy hid under the bed. It would have seemed obvious. Probably was obvious. However, the fact that the man had not found him at this point made him feel even worse. He stifled tears as he could hear his mother outside in the cold night hammering on her own door screaming and crying. He was filled with a mix of sorrow and rage that twisted knots in his stomach making his fists clench with painful anger.

“I’ll find you one way or another boy.” As the man lazily walked about the room, “I’m a witcher, I find monsters for a living it would be a shame to my reputation if I couldn’t find a little child.”

The boy held his breath as he watched the man’s boots from underneath the bed. He heard him rummaging around as the occasional plate or bowl hit the floor and spun where they fell. The ripping of bread and popping of a cork indicated he hand found food and drink and was taking his fill. All this while his mother continued to beat the door and cry. He peered out from underneath the bed as he watched the white-haired man and his mother race to every possible window as he sealed them up.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geralt continued to walk through the doorway. The building was not anywhere near as large as he originally thought it was going to be. On the floor lay broken plates, bowls, mouldy bread, and a corpse. The body reeked. Turning it over he noticed it was a woman. The body was so far along the decaying process to where the body was no longer held in rigor mortis as the thin and week muscles swayed about the bone easily barely contained within the skin. Upon further inspection she had taken many stabs to the belly. The dark stain on the floor indicated that she died from bleeding. Some of the body seemed to be missing as animals must have come in and taken portions suiting their needs. It was hard to make out the face or what it should have looked like. The skin was tight along the face and most of the teeth had been missing. If he couldn’t feel it, he could hear maggots wriggling under the flesh where he held the woman’s arm while most of them surrounded the holes put in her belly. On occasion one would wriggle along where an eyelid once was only to crawl back behind the eye and deeper into the skull. His mind raced as he thought what could have caused a woman to commit suicide.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t you want to be like the heroes in those stories your mother told you?” as he neared the bed, “I can help you into becoming a hero. However, I won’t do it if you continue to hide.” He paused for what the boy seemed was an hour, “You know I can hear your heartbeat.” The white-haired man said coldly, “By that I can tell you haven’t left the house.” As he followed it with another chilling pause, “And from the way it continues to race faster and faster I can pinpoint your location.”

The boys’ heart continued to race as he froze into place. The booted feet walked about the room in a series of circles to then stop at the edge of the bed. His breath became shallow as the white-haired man stood. Waiting. Patiently. The boy could feel his heartbeat in his head. The smell of the alcohol discarded on the floor left him with thoughts of his father before he was called away. He would have been angry had he not been afraid as the man who was in the room with him. He was much larger and generally scarier than his father. Yet from how he walked and talked while in the boys’ home he was strangely sober. Eerily so. The boy couldn’t help but feel his bladder quiver and shake within him.

“You piss yourself now and I’ll make you walk to Kaer Morhen” the man said so gruffly it seemed the boys’ bladder had shut down completely, “Now make this easy for the both of us and get out from under the bed.”

Too scared to do anything else the boy made his way from out under the bed. He was so close to the witcher now that his face was almost pressed against his boots. Even though he looked old the man had a somewhat sinister aura about him. One that made the boy shake with fear. This was the first time he had seen a witcher. A man who hunted monsters for a living. All the boy could think was of how glad he was to know that he wasn’t a monster. He could easily see monsters being afraid of a man if he looked like this witcher. Something about monster potentially fearing him seemed to please the boy.

“I’m Vesemir” the man said as he threw the boy over his shoulder, “C’mon Kaer Morhen awaits.”

He removed the sign on the door, and it swung open wildly as the boys’ mother rushed in after him. However, Vesemir moved out of the way. Almost like he could have predicted her course of action and easily stepped aside. With a smooth series of movements and a graceful gesture the door closed behind him. Locking the boys’ mother inside. All while she cried. And sobbed. And screamed.

“You’ll be needing a strong name” Vesemir scratched his chin as he approached his horse, “How about Geralt?”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Geralt. Geralt.” Yenn’s voice radiated about the room, “Geralt. Geralt.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“GEEEEEERRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLT!!!!!” the bard screamed at the top of his lungs plucking random strings on his lute to wake his comrade up.

Without knowing what was going on he punched at the air. A series of notes from the bards’ lute were strangled almost as soon as his own voice as he doubled over in pain. Shaking his head, the witcher looked around only to find Jaskier and his lute laying on the ground. The scent of the coals coming to their end in the fire assisted in waking him up fully.

“Fuck sake Geralt” the bard fought to get air back into his lungs, “Keep on punching me in the cock like that and I’ll never be able to have children.”

“I’ll be doing the women of a world a favour then.”

“Mmmyeah maybe” the bard thought on it before getting back to his original concern, “Geralt you need to get your things. Granger is missing.”

“What?” he responded in his usual distasteful tone.

“The girl who was traveling with us.” Jaskier’s eyes widened as if it weren’t obvious, “The one we were supposed to take to Aretuza.”

“What of it?” as he felt his blood start to boil.

“Well…she’s gone.” Jaskier could feel another punch to his jewels as he watched the witcher rest his face in his palm.

“Any clue where?”

He figured the bard had no clue and as a result started to get himself ready as the bard stammered through what he had seen and recollected of the mornings’ events. Started off with a beautiful song in his dream. Then a woman. Then parts Geralt wished he had never heard. To finally be caught up to date with the Granger girl missing. Geralt moved over to roach and took a pouch from his bag and pulled out the cork stopper. He used a bit of water to wipe out any of the coals that may still live before putting the waterskin back. Jaskier continued to stammer on like a babbling idiot which became easier by the day for him to ignore.

He could smell Granger. Fortunately, for him she had left her bag where they had camp and was able to get a stronger scent from it. Geralt continued to move about the camp as Jaskier finally caught on to what he was doing and started to take notes. It was still puzzling to the bard but Jaskier could only hope that there was a monster nearby to start writing his next impressive piece of Geralt’s heroic deeds. However, he ended up following the witcher deeper and deeper into the woods for roughly an hour. Only to find the witcher kneeling along a soft patch of grass. Feeling around. Bringing something to his nose. Cursing bitterly as a low rumbling growl emanated from his being.

“A-any idea as to where she went or who took her?”

“As for where she was taken her scent will lead the way” he growled, “as for who took her…”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as he didn’t believe what he saw.

“Vampires.” As Geralt brought a strand of hair to the sun letting Jaskier watch it puff into dust in the light of the sun.


	6. As the Blood Thickens

Hermione relished in the warmth of the bath as it was something her aching body needed. She was still a bit foggy on the details but found the dream she had the night upon waking here quite realistic. And to be honest with herself rather exciting. Once again, she had the ability to cast spells. If only for a moment. She sunk deeper into the bath till the water reached her nose. Then taking a deep breath she submersed herself in the water. It was necessary for her due to what seemed to be potatoes needed to evacuate the premises of her hair. Before entering she had already searched the dressers and grabbed several bottle and a bar of soap which took some trial and error until she started to see suds. A bonus she found what seemed to be a stone for exfoliating the skin. He had also found all the equipment necessary to shave. The only problem was. Well. She had never used a single straight edge before. It was heavy and seemed a little cumbersome in her hand. However, there was no guarantee that she could find any better item to shave herself with that that. The scary part was how sharp it was. It had to be. But she was wary because one wrong move, slip of the wrist, or wrong angle and she could easily cut something. So, she had to be extra cautious. But now was not the time for that. Thinking of it made her anxious and the last thing she’d want to feel whilst in the bath was anxious.

Instead she let her mind wander as she soaked in the tub. She wondered what else there was to this manor. With any luck it would be like the books she had read earlier that year. Where the manor had a section that was devoted into being a library. She missed the scent of newly printed pages and ink just as much as she missed the scent of old textbooks back at Hogwarts. Funny she could remember Hogwarts which felt like two maybe three weeks ago but couldn’t remember what had happened in the past couple of days. Perhaps the shopkeeper had sent her out to gather some herbs and she passed out? No, she thought to herself. Why would she be out for several days gathering plants? Even if that were the case, she would have had some word from the shopkeeper brought to her attention. None of this made any sense. Especially since she found potato starch in her hair. She knew she worked herself to the bone, but she knew she wasn’t one of those people who’d fall asleep while eating. Grabbing one of the bottles of aromatic oils Hermione massaged it into her scalp. It was gross as the dried starch had a scaly texture to it flaking off in segments as she massaged the oil towards her roots. She let the shampoo like oil sit in her hair as she lathered up with soap. It was crucial to have the oils break down the dirt before rinsing it out. After a good lather she brought herself down into the warm water letting the dirt and fatigue from the days past wash away. She took her time as she applied the shaving cream along her legs and carefully dragged the sharp razor along the desired areas. It was a little patchy in some areas but then again, she was willing to risk it if it meant not cutting herself. Never mind it was only her second or third time shaving as it hadn’t really grown leg hair until roughly three months ago to where it needed to be shaved. Even then there was too much on her mind to let a little shave get in the way.

There was more to explore when it came to the manor, what was held in its rooms, what the workers did, and whether they were of all the same race. Sure, Hermione had spent most of the time in a human heavily populated town. However, she had heard of elves, dwarves, and gnomes and the possibility of meeting them were terribly exciting. Although they were mainly followed with curses. So, she wasn’t sure if there were any of these beings but there was still hope. Unsure of what time it was Hermione thought it was roughly an hour since she had first entered the bath. It was refreshing that the air was still warm as she pulled a towel from the edge of the tub. It was large enough to where she could easily wrap herself and there was still enough length to it to where it reached her ankles. She had a smaller towel nearby to wrap her hair in. Hermione looked around to find a brush for her hair. There was one in a drawer near the mirror. It was rather shocking compared to the glamorous decorum of the manor. The teeth of the brush were thick bristles which were a relief as it may do some good for her thick hair. It had a wooden handle and head to it that didn’t have any delicate designs. It was just a simple brush. Like any she could have found at any general store in the town. She was lost in thought again as she tried to remember what it was that caused her to end up in this manor while she brushed. And brushed. And brushed. She was rather surprised as she noticed the oils making her hair smoother than usual and easier to manage.

Once her hair was thoroughly brushed Hermione made her way towards the table next to what she found to be the laundry chute. There was a fairly good selection of clothes available despite the era she found herself in. A collection of shoes was found underneath the table and she was relieved to find several flats. The undergarment consisted of a singlet that covered her shoulders and went down to just a few inches above mid-thigh. It seemed each set of clothes had its respectively colour coordinated hosiery, garter belt, and corset combination. The stockings were the most fashionable pieces of the three as the garter belt was to hold them in place and the corset was used to provide figure. She made sure to have it tight enough to provide the figure supposedly desired without suffering any lose of breath. The garter belt sat comfortably as she lit the stockings on and had the strappings from the garter belt hold them in place. Each dress had its own unique motif to them however, she decided to go with an emerald green dress. It was gorgeous with its primary coloured emerald green silk followed by a black velvet secondary that consisted mainly of the trim and collar of the dress. The neck of the dress was flattering to her form while giving no worry of showing any of the undergarment. Her shoulders were well covered, and she was grateful that the sleeves weren’t terribly puffy. A set of gloves made of the same velvet came up to her elbows. With the last finishing touch, she slipped on the flats which were predominately black with cute emerald bows on top.

Hermione didn’t bother with putting much make up on. Sure, it probably would have been better to put on maybe some lipstick or what passed for it. However, she wanted to explore. She checked herself out in the mirror in several angles to assure this was the dress she’d like to wear. Even then after remembering she’d have to go through the process all over again, she gave up on any desire to change anyway. Taking the clothes, she had on prior and mixing them with the towels she opened the metal door next to the long table. To her relief it was a laundry chute as she placed them inside and let them slip away out of sight. Making sure her dress was properly pressed as to not show any wrinkles she knocked on the door.

“Yes Miss?” called a voice on the opposite side of the door.

“I am done and dressed.” Hermione responded.

Without any word the men outside opened the doors waiting as she stepped outside of the room. The two men moved inside the room as she passed them on her way out. From the sound of it they were cleaning and putting away anything she had taken out or used that had otherwise not been put down the chute. She was happy to see the same lady that had given her the tea moving about the manor. Hermione gave her a wave and a slight curtsey however she was too busy to respond as she ran up stair to where her room was with blankets and sheets held in a basket. There were few noises made throughout the manor till she heard a ringing of a small bell. Shortly after she had made a left turn that led to a corridor that passed several closed doors and the living room she eventually bumped into the butler. He was an interesting man. He was rather tall. A little over six feet and rather thin for his tall frame. His suit was black as expected with a white undershirt, a black tie, and white gloves. His shoes were terribly shiny which was surprising given the well-kept way he held himself and presented his attire. His hair was black and parted to the side while his eyes. Well she didn’t know much about them. He had a look like his eyes were almost closed. Almost like he was moving about the manor half asleep.

“Anything I may assist you with Miss?” as he bowed before retaining his poise and elegant manor.

“Granger” she replied with a curtsey, “And I was curious if you could show me to the library.”

“Of course, Miss Granger” as he gave another short bow, “right this way.”

Although it seemed he could have fallen asleep at any moment his movements were elegant and with purpose as he led the way further down the corridor before turning left again. There were several doors until the corridor led to a smaller hallway that had a wooden spiralling staircase at the end of it. In the distance she could smell various spices and meats however the scent was too vague to determine what they were exactly. She was surprised and wondered what the time was.

“May I ask” Hermione paused as the butler stopped to address her, “What time is it?”

“A quarter past two to be precise.”

She was rather surprised how he knew the time without looking for any indication it seemed. Hermione was secretly hoping he would have pulled out a pocket watch. Then again it seemed a bit too advanced for this era. The hairs stood on the back of her neck a bit when she considered how he didn’t look for any indicators as to what time it was. Perhaps he had been asked frequently enough to where he could guess the time of day? It was rather strange. Then again what about him wasn’t strange in one form or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how were you sure it was vampires?” Jaskier asked while following close behind Roach.

“Surely you saw the hair?” as Geralt kept his eyes forward, “Burning away to ash in the sun.”

“Yes, that was quite scary” as he scratched his head, “but were there any other signs.”

“Other than the faint smell of death hidden amidst strong perfumes” Geralt sighed, “no.”

“Do you know how long it will take to find her?”

“No.”

“But surely you know how to find her?”

“No.”

Geralt couldn’t help but feel more and more irritated as Jaskier continued to ask more and more questions. He was confused as to how the Granger girl passed through camp without him noticing. Usually a witcher like himself had extra sensitive senses of sight, hearing, taste, and smell. However, it seemed his sense of hearing was dampened the night of her disappearance. They had been searching in the woods for some time now. Roughly a week by his count. By this time, they should have reached the academy and dropped her off there. He let out a sigh in irritation of it all. It proved to serve a secondary purpose as it shut Jaskier up. Only for a little while then he continued to prattle on about where and how they might find the Granger girl. It was the most Geralt had ever seen Jaskier care about a woman he wasn’t bedding and that pleased and bothered him in equal amounts. Sure, even the witcher found himself drawn to the girl. She was smart, eager, and brave and that was something he rarely saw in women her age. Plus, she could perform magic. Although a witch or sorceress would argue that witchers’ signs were no more magical than simple parlour tricks in comparison to actual magic the fact she could cast them impressed him. Sure, he had seen other men and women, prospective witchers, cast signs before however there was something different about the way Granger cast them. The way she had a level head about her as she made the signs. Even her emotions were tranquil. Sure, there were little signs of irritation however it seemed only to be that way because she was familiar with casting spells at one point or another. Her way of controlling herself was a little unnerving. Like the calm before a storm.

The others who had practiced the signs took way more attempts to get several sparks from Igni where it only took Granger two attempts until she could cause enough fire to light up a campfire. Another difference was their mental and emotional state whilst performing the signs. Most witchers cast them without so much as a thought as it becomes second nature to them. Even then most signs are cast with a hint of rage behind it. All witchers after passing the trial of grasses undergo certain training as to remove or distance their emotions from their person yet rage seemed to be the only emotion left. A special reserve of emotion kept for monsters. Human and monstrous alike. Through his upbringing in Kaer Morhen he had been taught that killing monsters was for the better of mankind and that he should strive to do the greater good. However, in the real world there are few times where a greater good can be seen. As a witcher this purpose became more and more difficult to maintain while only earning enough coin to fund his needs. There was always some Lord, Priest, Wizard, or Sorceress that claimed their actions noble or for the greater good all until he came to one conclusion. Evil is evil, lesser, greater, middling it made no difference. The degree became arbitrary the definition blurred. If offered to choose between one evil and another he’d rather not choose at all.

“Halt!” a man’s cry brought him out of thought, “Fifty florens if you wish to pass.”

“I don’t recall there be any toll to pass this region?” Jaskier turned to Geralt.

“Because there isn’t.” as he let out an exhausted sigh, “They’re bandits asking for coin.”

“So, what’s the holdup? Out with the coin!” as several men emerged from the woods crawling down the trunks.

“I’m not paying” as he gripped his steel sword.

“Then pay with blood!”

The most annoying thing about entering scenarios such as this is Jaskier. Rather than play it safe, get on Roach, and have Geralt call him back Jaskier would do his most irritating thing possible only second to his singing. The silly bard flipped his lute to the round base quickly pulling out several pieces of parchment and a finely trimmed piece of lead. He was tired of trying to protect the bard at all costs, but the young bard was rather stubborn. That was always a flaw of his once Jaskier decided to pursue something there was almost nothing that could stop him at least so long as he was out of the witchers’ reach and had nothing to throw at him.

“So, can I gather all your names?” as he sat down and waved his pencil in the air, “Just for the record!”

Jaskier’s incredibly cheery tones were cut short as he both gagged and screamed as the rattling of blades led to a severed head landing on his lap. He wasn’t sure which part was most worrying at this point as the decapitated head looked at him with its lifeless eyes as the blood from the inside of it spilled along the severed neck. He tried to quickly brush it off as to save a piece of parchment however the sheet was too soaked in crimson and too wet to be able to write on it. The page beneath it was only partially as bad and with that he tried to write the goings on from that point. Geralt was now a grunting, shouting, mercenary of death at this point.

Luckily, for him there were now only thirteen members left as he decapitated the first to approach him with brilliant ease. There were two other men that had gotten close in that time. One had a sap and dagger while the other approached with an axe. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt saw a man with a bow and decided to make quick use of him. The steel sword flew with extreme speed as the archer fell back three feet only to be impaled against the base of the tree. He gagged and flailed his arms and legs wildly as his broken teeth wrapped along the blades edge. Geralt moved with incredible speed as he kicked the man’s right knee taking the axe and planting it in the others’ foot. With several quick punches he easily broke several ribs. The man with the dagger tried to stab him but he had overextended himself. At that point the witcher broke his arm at the elbow making the man drop the knife into his hand. With a quick toss he bedded the knife into another man with a bow in the distance. Some of the others cried in shock as the knife was embedded into their comrade’s chest to the edge of the handle while part of the man’s spine cracked out of his back. Geralt them twisted the man’s neck as a bartender would a cork stopper before it snapped. Picking up the axe from the corpses foot he whirled around and brought the blade up in an arced motion. Bloodied screams left the man as he tried to hold his insides close to his torso. Blood and intestines dripped from his person like torrential rain until his eyes bulged out of his head as the axe blade became jammed inside his skull.

“Dammit Geralt!” the bard cursed as a newly, near complete, page now had chunks of blood, intestines, and shit sprayed about it.

Now only nine were standing in a manner of seconds. At this point attacking with a bow or aiming towards the witcher was pointless as they saw their allies die before them. However, Geralt seemed to know about this. He moved quickly trying to add a meat barrier between him and the bard. However, a couple of archers fired arrows before Geralt could reach his friend. With a swift motion of his hand the Aard sign sent a kinetic tremor knocking the arrows out of position. One of the arrows he caught as he threw it back at one of the archers. The man collapsed on to his knees crying in pain as his hands went to his face. The shaft and fletching stretched out long enough to indicate it had been caught in the man’s eye as he writhed in pain on the floor.

“Aha! DAMMIT!” the bard exclaimed in equal but opposite extremes as one of the strayed arrows ripped through another filled sheet.

Four men now approached Geralt as he was unarmed with combinations of Morningstar, mace, axe, and sword with a shield. Geralt only smiled smugly to himself as he pulled out his dagger. Some of the men laughed as they made their way towards him only to deeply regret it. The first came at Geralt with a morning star and shield but he was not near as fleet of foot. Geralt slid beneath the mans’ arm stabbing upward and deep into the armpit severing several arteries along the way as he twisted his body around the mans’ and dragged the blade along his neck. Taking the shield from off the corpse as it fell, he threw it quickly at the last archer following it up with a use of Aard. The shield flew at an alarming rate as the archer now dragged himself along the shield out of shock not knowing that his lower half had fallen beneath him as his upper half was pinned by the shield and tree adjacent to him. Next were the men with the axe and sword respectively as they tried to attack in tandem. A quick punch to the gut of the sword wielder caused him to buckle under as a swift slamming of the witcher’s heel to the axe wielders’ arch of his foot caused his swing to fall short. The witcher moved out of the way as the axe wilders’ swing was strong and wild cleaving into his partner’s head just above the eyebrow as the man’s grey matter trickled down his head. At that point Jaskier had to pause from writing as he tried to avoid heaving as little flecks of grey matter splattered along his cheek. With another quick motion following along the backside of axe wielder Geralt took his knife and jammed it behind the hamstrings severing the muscles adjacent to them and severing the arteries.

There were only five hostiles left now. Geralt only had enough time to grab a shield as the mace wielder swung wildly. He landed several blows but to his misfortune each blow landed on the shield and were glanced off. With shield in hand he tried fending off the mace user’s attack with his own counterattack using the shield alone. However, what the bandit lacked in physical attack power he more than made up for in defence. Fortunately for Geralt fighting fair wasn’t part of his code. With a swing of his shield he kept up the defence as to free up other areas of the man’s body. A swift kick to the cock was more than enough as he most likely lodged the man’s testicles back into his abdomen. This instant shock created more than enough openings for Geralt to attack making simple work of him as the dagger slit the back of the man’s neck through the spine leaving him writhing along the floor bleeding out. Geralt dropped the shield and made his way towards the last standing four as he placed his dagger back into its sheath. Two had polearms and tried to keep their distance while the others wielded short swords and daggers. However, Geralt made quick use of the polearms and snapped them halfway down the shafts grinning to himself as fire burst from is palm enveloping the remaining four. Each of them screamed in torment as they tried to put themselves out which made it easier to Geralt to finish them using the blades dropped by the dual wielders.

“Well not anything to really write a song about.” As Jaskier looked at his several battered and bloodied notes, “At least not anymore…When will you make clean enough and interesting kills to where I can profit from it? A day? A week? Geralt? Uh…Geralt?”

There was something interesting about these men. Upon closer inspection Geralt noticed insignias about the men’s shoulders. It was dark red and almost near impossible to find due to the amount of blood littered about the area. Mercenaries. Poorly armed and equipped however the crest was made of fine materials. Making his way back the witcher pulled his sword from the archers’ mouth breaking several teeth as he did so. Only to shift his gaze towards the only survivor. Geralt dragged his blade in a way that seemed almost menacingly as he neared the archer who was still writhing about clutching his head.

“I was wrong to call you bandits.” Geralt growled, “Who do you work for?”

Geralt started to grow impatient as the man continued to cry and writhe slightly to try and ignore the witcher. He took a knee as he approached the archer, moving away the man’s hands and pinning him down with his knees. The archer locked eyes with him in terror as the one with the arrow in it moved wildly. Geralt grimaced as he smelt the man urinating himself.

“Tell me!” he growled angrily as the witcher grabbed the shaft of the arrow and twisted it slightly before holding it in place.

“B-B-Bruxa” the man stammered as he gazed in the yellow eyes of the witcher, “L-L-Lady Bruxa.”

“And, where is she?” as he started to twist the shaft again.

“I-I-I don’t know” the man sobbed as he tried to reach for his eye.

“Tell me what you do know and make it quick you’ve made me a very impatient man.”

“S-s-she has a manor! I worked there for a period! B-b-b-but that was roughly a month ago.”

“That’s better.” To which he pulled out the man’s eye and made him choke on it.

“Well how are we going to find the manor now Geralt?!?” the bard exclaimed baffled, “If you talked with him just a while longer, he could have told you the location of it.”

“With this” as he held a kerchief, “Luckily we killed one with a memento and since he had worked roughly a month ago the scent should still be strong enough.”

“I can’t believe we’re finding a girl solely based on your scent of smell.” As the bard placed his face in his palm, “Wait! Wait! Wait! There might be something here! Where’s my lead!”

“C’mon Roach we’ve got a way to go.”

“Wait! You know I can’t write and run at the same time!”


	7. Stuck in a Book and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to take so long on getting this chapter out. Hopefully I will have some more time to get more chapters out. Also WARNING this will trigger some readers. Otherwise enjoy.

It took a fair amount of time going down the first flight of stairs, but the effort was worth the pay off. Hermione could have easily calculated that they had travelled forty feet below ground level until they reached a door. It was more like a gate than a door and had several hinges to it almost like an old timey elevator. However, there were no mechanisms for electrical power to activate any of the motors, wheels, etc. to get it moving.

“This way Miss Granger.” As the butler opened the door and shut it behind him.

Once inside the Butler was put to work. He opened a panel to the right-hand side and started cranking a small wheel. Gradually the elevator started to move with a jolt until the proper counterweights were measured to assure a gradual and automatic descent. It was fascinating yet a little disturbing that the butler could have guessed both of their combined weights to ascertain the proper amount of counterweight to descend in this manner. Where she should have been insulted or at the least embarrassed those feelings were easily replaced by amazement. Her heart began to flutter slightly, her hands shook a little, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip as she saw the cylindrical chasm of what seemed to be endless shelves among shelves of books.

“Lady Bruxa has one of the highest and most sought after collection of books on this side of the continent” the butler spoke in a rather monotone manner, “The Lady’s collection consists of education in the following categories; etiquette, poetry, world history, politics, mathematics, alchemy…”

Hermione was interested in all these categories listed. However, there was one she did wonder about. She was surprised she had let that slide from her memory. However, she would be more than happy to discover and learn more about the subject matter. That is if the subject would be brought up. Sure, her memory was foggy on some details and she had quite an amazing dream beginning an amazing quest to learn about magic while being escorted by to very different yet in their own way handsome men. Now her regret about today was not staying in bed for a little longer and lazily trying to remember them with all fondness. Well more time would be spent on the white-haired one. The other was handsome but something about him screamed trouble that she didn’t want to get involved in. While the other. She could feel her cheeks get hot as she thought about that one. Sure, she’d get into trouble, but it seemed more like trouble with monsters based on the many scars she could see. She wondered how many scars littered his amazingly large and toned musculature.

“Magic, astronomy, agriculture…” the butler continued.

“Could we stop there?” she turned to the butler with a wide smile, “I would be incredibly happy if we could have at least an hour spent there.”

“You would like to spend an hour reading on agriculture?” the notion this girl wanted to read something like that for that duration seemed to have cracked his reserved and professional manner.

“What? No.” as she looked at him in a combination of perplexed and amused, “Magic, can we please stop there?”

“Yes, Miss Granger.” The sigh of relief was so obvious Hermione tried not to laugh.

It was still amazing to see the almost never-ending sea of books before her very eyes. Even upon every level where they could stop and see the collection on the subject matter it looked like it went on for an eternity. Hermione almost thought she had died and gone to heaven if such a thing really exists. If it did, she was certain it had to be this place. Sleeping in, having tea, hot baths, massages she made a mental note to get one of those before/if ever she would leave this place. Hermione was too distracted to think about anything else as the elevator came to a stop. Her heart raced as she looked at the sea of possibilities that lay before her. The butler escorted her out and waited by the entry should she wish to return or see another part of the library.

“The time is currently quarter to four, Miss Granger” that still spooked her out, “You have one hour and fifteen minutes before we must make our way to the dining hall. Lady Bruxa appreciates punctuality and I find it in your best interest that you….”

As much as she knew not to interrupt him, she had got the point. She was however too fascinated by all the volumes that lay before her. There was a large book on a lectern before she would enter the overwhelming number of shelved books. Although she didn’t want to be rude and just leave her company to talk with himself, she did want to move towards the lectern and give it a good read before going any further. With any luck it would be a compendium of sorts that lists out the categories of magic by schools, theory, practice, and location throughout this section of the library.

Once the butler was done talking Hermione gave him an appreciative curtsey before turning her attention to the lectern and the rather large book that sat lazily upon the finely crafted wood. She flipped the rather dusty cover open and the first few pages until she found the table of contents. Tracing a finger down the list she couldn’t help but smile at the new possibilities of learning magic now at her fingertips. However, there was one topic she thought she ought to read up on before going any further. Spells involving space/time alteration. Hermione tried to scroll through the list as quickly as she could knowing she only had a certain amount of time. Until to her astonishment she found it. The section was listed on page three hundred and ninety-four. Seemed like an odd section to have that topic covered in but then again this was just a list of where to find books on the subject matter. Flipping over to the page number she beamed with excitement as it soon was dragged from her. The page wasn’t torn, damaged, in another language, or maimed in any way. It was just vague. So vague to the point of which there was only one item listed. In small print it simply read, “time travel?”. It would have sent her through the roof and in some instances it had. Not only was there no information on the subject matter but even the one entry was listed in this colossal collection was listed with a form of uncertainty. Was it a misread? Was even the Lady of the Manor unsure? Or was it the author itself that was uncertain if there was any such subject matter? Regardless there was no telling. There wasn’t even a way to determine where the book was because there was no hint or anything else about it. Just a question. Her heart sank a little as she came to grips that she would probably have to live here for the rest of her life if anything else. Although given this number of books it wouldn’t be all that bad. It would be even better if she had that musclebound figure around too. She really hoped he’d pop into her dreams again. Once again, she couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to her face.

With a sigh she moved back to the table of contents and began to drag her finger down the list again trying to find topics of immediate interest. It wasn’t a matter of finding interesting topics there were a plethora of those she just got a little distracted every now and again. The white-haired man’s height, broad shoulders, she could go on, but she really ought to focus on the matter at hand while on the clock. Besides she was too young for him. Or maybe he was too old for her? The unconscious biting of her lip told her otherwise. She didn’t know why her mind was being carried away with such thoughts. A man like that was just a fabrication of her imagination. A hauntingly handsome fabrication that caused her heart to flutter, cheeks to heat up, her to bite her lip, and palm get a little sweaty but a fabrication at best. She fought with the inner machinations of her mind whilst going through the list. However, each time she tried to make a step in the right direction the thought of this man would come to mind.

“Miss Granger” the butler interrupted her thoughts, “We mustn’t be late come.”

“But what about the hour?”

“I’m afraid it has already passed” as he made his way to the elevator and opened the door, “This way Miss Granger.”

Flustered she tried to hide it by clenching her fists whilst making her way back to the elevator. Next time. She thought to herself. Next time she’ll get all those silly thoughts out of her head before getting out of bed. Then she’ll make her way to the library as quickly as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Care to explain the vehement behaviour Geralt? Geralt?”

The bard had asked this several times however, his only response was Geralt either ignoring him or grunting in exhaustion from Jaskier’s assault of questions. It had only been several hours and yet the body count had gone from thirteen to fifty-two. Whether it was bandits or mercenaries hired by the vampire Geralt didn’t have any problem in disposing of any of them. Then again, he had been trained in it for several decades. Those years had been tough. However, it became a necessity for his profession. Sorcerers, wizards, cannibals, rapists, fiends, demons, and other monsters. Each one of them had to be taken down for the wellbeing of others. Sure, the coin was deeply appreciated along with some of the other pleasures the world had to offer. However, sometimes the best reward was getting rid of monsters.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a dark day. There was a heavy storm that had rolled in over the past couple of days. Geralt had finished his trial of grasses and had now become and official witcher. The shock from it had taken its toll on Geralt and made his hair white his face had been roughed up seeing he had somehow broken out of his leather binds. When that happened, it came to Vesemir’s attention to replace the leather straps with metal ones. Over the course of the multiplicity of mutations that had taken place during and after the trial of grasses had made Geralt what he was. Vesemir knew what the toll felt like and due to that he had sent Geralt to the closest town to Kaer Morhen.

It had been several days journey to get into the village. However, once their things were terribly different. Much unlike the times it had been when he was just a witcher in training. Before the mutations, Geralt and his compatriots could walk into any town and enter any bar with little to no difficulty. Now when he entered town there was an obvious difference in the manner people had treated him. Sure, he wasn’t a popular person in most towns. Geralt had been in plenty bar fights and general fights but now most people kept distance from him. Some kids threw rocks and ran however that was the least of his problems.

Geralt made his way in the only open tavern around called the pickled serpent. It came across an inuendo and at first, he wasn’t sure if it was a brothel or a tavern once he reached the entryway. Even if it was there would have been no complaints on his behalf. Geralt could use either a drink or a woman to calm his nerves. Heavy wafts of well-cooked food and alcohol had raged his senses. Each ingredient could be smelled. However, he wasn’t sure if this was going to make food better or make things worse. Even then Geralt could smell each form of alcohol that existed within the bar. He could use some shots of vodka. Several dozen by the smell of it. It seemed a little weaker just from the scent of it that had now become more and more apparent to him due to his focus tuning into it.

“Oh, fuck off” called a man as Geralt walked in.

“That a way to welcome a fellow patron?” Geralt asked.

“Nothin’ fellow about you at all you mutated bastard.”

Geralt didn’t take it to heart. Especially while the other patrons spat in his direction. Things have changed. He had changed. That didn’t mean that the people in the tavern were necessarily bad or wrong for what they had done. Had he not experienced what he did and if he had seen what the others had he would have acted the same way. He was the same way. When he first met Vesemir he treated him like the scum of the earth. Geralt couldn’t remember how many times he had tried running away from the old witcher. When he had turned eight Geralt had escaped for the umpteenth time, past the woods, and deep into a bog. He had never come across a monster until that point in time. It was big and ugly. Just as he had suspected. And far more terrifying. Vesemir saved his life. Chastised him. And since then Geralt had done his best to make Vesemir proud. Now he had become a witcher. Made Vesemir prouder than he could have expected seeing that he passed the trials. Even more so that Geralt had been able to withstand extra mutations.

“I-I was asked to assist you Sir” spoke a young maid.

“A little young to work here don’t you think?” as he broke out of thought, “How old are you?”

“I-I’m ten.” As she held her tray close to her and looking down, “Sir. The barkeep knows your kind told me to assist you.”

“Vodka and lots of it.” As Geralt took a small pouch of florens and handed it to her, “Here’s extra coin for your trouble, now go home.”

The young maid smiled and curtseyed out of gratitude to the young witcher as she took the coin purse. She had made her way up to barkeep with little to no trouble save a spank in passing from the same man that gave him what felt like a similar warm welcome. The barkeep himself smiled as she came by and took the coin purse from her patting her on her head. A father and her daughter from the smell of it. Each person had a certain smell to them. Theirs was an obvious scent. While the handsy man was ever so obvious to point out he didn’t need witcher senses. Just about every scent of alcohol rested about that man’s person. It was like he became the vessel of a terrible combination of man’s poison. From the stench of him Geralt was surprised he was able to speak properly. Let alone sit.

“Pardon the girl sir” as the barkeep brought him his drink, “This’n is on the house.”

“Thanks.” As he took the whole pitcher and a mug.

“Not been the first witcher to come to this part” as he took a step back to let the man enjoy his drink, “and I hope yer not the last.”

“That’s a kind compliment.” As he gagged a little on the harshness of the alcohol. Thankfully it still had its taste and potency to it.

“Had it not been fer yer kind I would have lost my wife and daughter never mind my business” as he chuckled, “Yer folk com’n here more than most folk. Drink the most too.”

“Save that man there” as he gestured his mug to the repugnant man.

“Ah. Yeah.” As the barkeep scratched the back of his head, “Guoidemar is a handful.”

“Bless you” as the witcher pulled him up a mug and poured him a drink.

“Sorry sir I’m on the job.”

“And yet you’ll still be the most sober man here tonight.”

“Well with that logic” as the barkeep downed his share, “If you need anything let me know.”

“Will do.”

The minstrel and her band played a sad song if ever he knew one. Almost ruined his desire to drink altogether. However, Vesemir had given him the coin for it and his drink was on the house. It was a good choice to hand it off to the girl anyway. The barkeep seemed to glad about it either way as Geralt watched the man pull his daughter close to him into a warm hug. Despite the sun slowly setting down past the horizon and gave the tavern a gloomy glow about it. Even as the fire danced about in its fireplace. Geralt couldn’t help but drink every drop trying to find a way to forget the trials and tests. He knew better than to be carried around with his thoughts as he smelled Guoidemar sloppily slunk his way out the tavern. The hairs on the witcher’s neck stood up as he looked about the tavern. The girl had gone missing.

“Fuck.” As he cast aside his empty pitcher and mug groggily making his way to the barkeep, “Your daughter, where is she?”

“Excuse me sir witcher but she-”

“She’s gone out and Guoidemar is sloppily drunk. Just tell me where she’s headed.”

“Oh” as the barkeep put a hand on his chest in relief, “OH!” as he gripped his head in concern, “I sent her east towards the market to grab some last-minute supplies. But yer-”

“Drunk?” as Geralt cocked an eyebrow, “Yes, but not near as drunk as Guoidemar.”

It was terribly hard to keep his focus about him. Geralt stumbled every now and again but it wasn’t near as bad as his quarry. He couldn’t see him, but his stench was still so potent no man could have missed him. The man had taken the less travelled streets and, from the sound of the whimpering and screams, caught up with the girl. Geralt observed the girl struggle as he made his way closer. At one point she took out a small knife to defend herself and cut him across his face. Only to get back handed spinning her on her heels until she landed on the muddy floor. Geralt grimaced as he knew what was to follow. Guoidemar placed a hand on the backside of her as he struggled with his belt. The girl was crying now as the man lifted her skirt and heard his trousers drop to his ankles. Next came the most satisfying sound as steel rang clear in the darkening sky as it burst through the man’s chest. Geralt pulled the body back and gave the girl some space as she regained her dignity. He missed the rapists’ heart however and moved the man to the nearest building. Geralt had intended it that way. He repeatedly kicked the man in the crotch till his cock had turned into a blackened swelled up mass that hung on a strand of flesh. From that point he took a knife and carved out the man’s eyelids to watch as the witcher slowly began to gut him alive. Wrapping the man’s intestines about his neck he pulled his almost lifeless corpse five inches off the ground. Repeatedly smashing in the man’s face with his leather gloves Geralt ignored the bleeding, crunching, and crackling of bone. Each landing blow was fuelled with rage until he broke past the back end of the man’s head.

“I think he’s dead Geralt.” It was Vesemir as he helped the girl up to her feet, “Congratulations you killed your first monster.”

“You knew this was going to happen?”

“Yes, but not to this girl and not like this.”

“You knew that a girl was going to get raped tonight and you let it happen anyway?”

“I knew, Geralt” as he shielded the girls’ eyes in passing, “That you would come and save whoever it was when the time came.”

“So, this was some kind of test?”

“Training actually.”

“Some fucked up training.”

“Yes, but needed you need to be trained on how to let go of these emotions. They will become a distraction if we don’t rip them out of you.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice finally broke through to him.

“She’s young, smart-”

“A sorceress” Jaskier smiled knowingly.

“Knock that off.”

“Come on Geralt you have a type admit it.” As he took a couple purposeful steps back, “For me it’s-”

“Married women” as Geralt took a brief reprieve and held his head in his hands as he leaned back, “I’m surprised there are still lands where every husband doesn’t have a fucking bounty on your head.”

“That is true. However, weren’t we talking about your type.”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“Her? Who said anything about her?” as Jaskier put his hands up and took another step back, “I’m just saying you have a type and that type consists of those who wield magic.”

“Nobody wields magic. Not true concentrated magic at that.”

“Yet Granger seems like she can. Can’t she?”

Geralt’s response was just a grunt but Jaskier seemed to have a point. There was something about the Granger girl. She had something that all the other women didn’t have. All seemed to have magic ebb and flow about them. A flow that on occasion seemed to burst and stretch out towards everything in its path. The Granger girl had magic. It was clear. However, it didn’t seem to ebb and flow about her, rather magic seemed to reside in her. Almost like a primal energy that swelled in and out of her like the tides. Where most witches and sorcerers seemed to be conduits of chaos Granger didn’t seem to have any hint of chaos built within her. It was difficult and hard to explain but magic was and is a part of her being.

“Seems to be the case.”

“Can I just say I am proud of how much you have spoken today?” he said as his face morphed into alarm using his lute to protect his head whilst he ran away, “Just saying it’s good to have these feelings expressed.”

“Wrong way Jaskier.” As he waited for Jaskier to come around to provide him with a gut punch, “And I don’t have any feelings. Especially for Granger you and I both know she is too young.”

“But not for long and besides don’t you age slower than normal men?”

“Yes, but-”

“So, there you go give it some time and then-”

“Not happening and stop thinking with your cock. We’ve got more pressing matters.”

“Alright, alright.” As Jaskier slung the lute over his shoulder, “What’s so bad about vampires anyway?”

“Vampires have several rules and weaknesses.”

“Like not being able to enter dwellings without an invitation?”

“That only is applicable to noble house vampires. The spawns and thralls can enter in whichever building they like. Even then the nobles can enter any dwelling that comes into their possession. You’d be surprised how many vampire landlords I’ve killed.”

“So, do stakes, crosses, holy water, and sunlight kill vampires?”

“Stakes and crosses mean nothing.” As Geralt adjusted Roach’s saddlebags, “Holy water is a myth. As for sunlight it can kill the spawns and thralls but for a noble it will only weaken them.”

“This has proven to be most useful.”

“More notes for your next horrible ballad?”

“You know me all too well” Jaskier smiled only to have it morphed into a little outrage, “Horrible, horrible ballad?”

“Just shut up and get on the horse” Geralt couldn’t help but smile to himself knowing his insult landed, “We’ll make better time if we’re both on horseback. If we’re lucky I’ll fight a bandit on horseback and Roach will have less of a load to carry.”

“Aw Geralt I’m flattered” as he thought a bit more on it, “And a little offended I’m as thin and fit as a lass.”

“Just get on the horse before I leave you behind to rescue Granger.”

“Admit it you are for her. Albeit she’s young but who am I to-”

“The horse now” Geralt growled gutturally to where Jaskier silently and quickly jumped on Roach’s back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dining hall was more splendid than Hermione thought it would have been. She was expecting tapestries depicting the strength and power of her host, mantled trophies from suitors’ game hunts, and detailed stain glassed windows. However, there was nothing along those lines per say. The floor was patterned like a chessboard with black and white marble tiles. Large support columns held the roof above them as the onyx pillars stood formidably in their place locked in with gold trim. The walls were large polished marble slabs that held sconces along the seams. The dining hall itself was almost the length of a football pitch. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling two of which were similar in size on the opposite sides of the hall while the centre one was grand and large. So large and well decorated with crystal and lights Hermione thought it was the chandelier mentioned from Phantom of the Opera. It loomed with beauty and had a form of power that radiated from it and set the tone. The table was a third of the length of the whole hall made of dark wood and covered in a rich red and gold tablecloth. Potted plants and their beautiful displays expressed the taste and beauty of the food that lay before her. There were whole roasted pigs, pheasant, lamb, slabs of steak, an assortment of fish, vegetables, potatoes, various gravies, buns, rolls, and fruit. There were roughly twenty or thirty attendees that waited ready for their services provided. The dishes and utensils were of an interesting and intricate make.

Upon further inspection Hermione noticed that they were incredibly shiny. She thought it was silver however the amount of shine to it defeated that observation. Platinum? The sheen to it was certain however unlikely that it was fully made of the material. Her nails were not enough to scrape at it even then her gloves made her thumb slide along the curved edges. She tried to use her knife to scrape at it without making any obvious motions. Steel? It was rather strange that most of the dishes were steel covered in platinum while the dishes were steel covered in gold. She was relieved that the sheen and vibrance of things were not enhanced with mercury.

“Finding everything to your liking?”

The question made her jump. Hermione was so distracted that she didn’t even know when she entered the room. Now that she was here it was obvious; she was the Lady Bruxa. Her personage was what seemed to be the epitome of power. Greater and in more depth than any wizard or witch she had come across at Hogwarts. From the way her ruby-like red hair was styled to the black rose that sat among the sea of ruby locks. Both complimented her overall apparel as her dark red dress cascaded about her person while a black corset held and lifted her already ample bosom. The sleeves were made to rest upon her finely curved and slender shoulders. She wore similar gloves to Hermione that added to her powerful appearance. She wore heels that would barely be the length of her dress made it certain to obtain the greatest level of power and stature. Even her make up was on point and spoke volumes for her. Hermione was surprised that even her hosts lipstick didn’t even print upon the goblet she drank out of. She had the poise and elegance of a woman in court. Yet even that level of description didn’t provide her the level of power she held even in her own dining hall.

“Oh, yes” as Hermione blushed a bit, “thank you for bringing me.”

“The pleasure is all mine Hermione” as the lady took a small bite of meat.

“H-How do you know my name?”

“Do you really have to ask Dearie? Surely, a woman of your intellect knows about magic.”

“You gathered my name through the use of magic?” the question was both out of shock and of interest.

“I knew that would have caught your interest.”

“I tried reading up on some forms of magic but…” as her voice dropped off.

“You seemed distracted?” she smiled both teasingly and knowingly, “Trust me Dearie it will pass.”

“I can only hope.”

“You’ll be fine. Take some time, collect your energies, and then attempt at trying to learn magic. I heard you took a bath I’m glad you did it seemed to have done you a world of good.”

“Thanks Lady Bruxa.”

“Please Hermione call me Eleanor.” The way she said it sent chills down Hermione’s spine.

“S-Sure thing… Eleanor”

“See nothing to worry Dear.” As she took another bite of steak, “I am surprised you didn’t take the opportunity to have a massage. I have a full spa installed in the East wing and the workers in that department are masters of their craft. You should take some time to relax while you are here. You aren’t on any agenda, are you?”

“Not that I can recall” as she tilted her head, “With your permission I would like to stay a while longer while I read your books on magic.”

“Sounds like a great idea” as Eleanor took another sip from her goblet, “if you like I am going on a late-night hunt with some family coming over and would love your company. In the meantime, we should spend more time together. Perhaps I can teach you some magic as we spend time together. Sometimes I find reading a book too draining. Learning magic is definitely one of those things if performed with a personal touch.”

“Thank you for your offer but I like to read books before jumping into practice.”

“Like how you learnt signs in your dream with the witcher?”

“How did you know?”

“Simple” as she took a napkin to dab her lips, “Dreams and magic are deeply connected. Part real part illusion. Stuck in that happy middle ground between expectation and imagination. Coated in hopes, dreams, and desires swirled in the never-ending expanse of chaos.”

“Chaos?” Hermione wondered as she took in a mouthful of steak.

“Have you not felt it? Seen it? Smelled it even?” as Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at her, “Chaos is the fabric of reality itself that teases along the border of reality and illusion. It is from this weave of chaos that allows magic to flow into this world. Ever since the conjunction of the sphere’s chaos spilled into this world with greater ease. In this world’s early history magic was namely used by the race of elves. The elves had felt that change in the fabric of chaos. Humans have made their way to their kingdoms and begged to learn the ways of magic from them. After that point men had abused the knowledge given to them and brought monsters into the world. Or some of them at least. From that point on witchers had become an early profession keeping the balance between man and monster easily killing both as they see fit.”

“I really wish I had a book and a pen to write this all down with.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn and practice.” Eleanor smiled, “Please eat. Afterwards we will take some time and practice the craft of magic together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, is there more to know about vampires?”

“Depends.” Geralt couldn’t help but sigh in the realization that having Jaskier on Roach with him made him more annoying as Jaskier’s voice was now closer to him, “Spawns and thralls don’t cast spells. Only nobles can.”

“And what are the differences between spawns, thralls, and nobles?”

“Spawns are vampires that were made from a bite given to them from a noble. Spawns are given a lust for blood as a result of the transference of mutagens riddled along the teeth of nobles. Thralls are humanoids that are tainted by magic produced from the gaze of nobles and are hellbent on fulfilling their will for them. Nobles undergo specific mutations that are followed by ritualistic ceremonies and magic chants. Spilt blood and ritualistic drinking of it followed by what they call the ‘waking death’ leads to the severe mutation that causes a humanoid to become a noble. Unlike the other two categories of vampire nobles can cast magic, walk in sunlight, and are given greater amounts of strength, immune system, and regeneration making them practically impossible to kill.”

“So, wait you mean to tell me-”

“That Granger was kidnapped by a noble using magic. Yes. A Bruxa is a categorization of greater vampire and therefore noble along with the Alps and Mulas categories. Then there are the higher vampires and they are the noblest of vampires.”

“And they’re called?”

“Higher vampires.”

“Nothing very poetic about that.”

“They have a larger capacity for magic and therefore function higher. Their names are either given to them or chosen after their new birth.”

“Oh, so Granger is safer than we thought.”

“Not exactly.” Geralt growled, “Even a Bruxa is stronger, faster, and more formidable than your common vampire. Granger is still in grave danger.”

“And this has nothing to do with the potential affections you have developed towards Granger?”

“Jaskier!”

“Fine!”

It was going to be a long three-day ride if he to bear with Jaskier acting like this. Hopefully things will return to an amount of normality when Granger is returned. Hopefully Granger was safe. There was something fascinating about her he just couldn’t put a finger on it. Geralt only hoped that it was her ability to use magic in a way that intrigued him so. He would hate to admit that Jaskier was right. She was pretty. Cute even. The way she would smile when presented with new information. The way how life seemed to intrigue her. The fresh take she had to the doom and gloom of this world that gripped on Geralt’s shoulders. With any hope having Granger around would reduce the despair that lingered about the dark corners of his mind. It seemed like a suicide mission. Even then it depended on Granger’s safety from the Bruxa. Provided he could reach her in time.


	8. Manor in the Woods

The day was dark. Only to get darker as the sun slipped behind the dark rain clouds and further back into the horizon. The rain fell through the trees and pattered along the leaves like tiny drums echoing in the distance. Geralt and Jaskier had been on the road for two days only to lose most if not all the trail leading to the manor. Even with his heightened senses it didn’t guarantee knowing exactly where the location of the manor was on top of that it was probably leading them into the wrong direction. Then again, the trail of bodies at first only confirmed it. Now there were little to know persons around. However, Geralt and Jaskier seemed a bit more hopeful as they seemed to find a promising clearing that would hint at where a unlocatable manor would be placed.

“We might be in the right place” Geralt growled.

“Might? It’s been a while since you last used the phrase something wrong?”

“No.”

“C’mon Geralt you’ve been more emotional than expected admit it.”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you’ve only tossed me off the horse twelve times today while you probably did that triple the amount of times yesterday. I’m not saying you have to lust after Granger but just admit she has a place in your heart at least.”

“Do you want me to make it thirty-six times? We still have four hours before the sun sets fully and monsters prowl along the grounds.”

“N-not really.”

“Then I suggest we change the subject to more pressing matters.”

“Okay then let’s talk about the pressing matters” as Jaskier’s voice trailed off only to totally misread what Geralt was talking about, “Is it because of Yenn? You know where she is at, you know that you can talk to her once we get to the Academy.”

“It’s not about Yenn!” as Geralt pushed off Jaskier, “Learned your lesson or would you like thirty-three more pushes?”

“Nope thirteen is plenty” as Jaskier tried to get air back into his lungs.

“Get off the horse.”

“Ugh Geralt you threw me remember?” looking at the brooding witcher bewildered.

“Good stay off the horse.”

“But don’t we have yet another days’ worth of travel?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes, maybe” as Geralt lowered his gaze from along the now blackened horizon due to the setting of the sun, “Even then there are preparations that need to be made.”

“What kind of preparations?”

“Oils, decoctions, the like.”

“So, should I make a fire?”

“No need.” As Geralt dropped an armful of kindling from one of the saddlebags lighting it up with Igni, “Though some extra wood would be helpful. Follow me remain quiet and leave your lute behind.”

“Ah. Okay. Not sure how I feel about this, but I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good.”

With that the witcher let roach rest near the fire whilst the Jaskier and himself went deeper into the woods. It seemed odd usually there were very few openings in this part of the woods. Most of the forests rarely had any openings and those that did were of ill favour for any of those foolish to remain in them. Most openings were near brooks and streams or large rocks. Sometimes they were illusions for witches’ huts or lairs for certain monsters. However, if this were some of the outlying areas of the Bruxa’s lair they both better exercise as much caution as possible. For now, to assist in his upcoming battle he would need oil derived from animal fat such as boar, wild dog, or bear for that matter. Other than that, there were several dried herbs he had gathered from the weeks prior that would seem useful and luckily, he was able to hide the strong alcohols away from Jaskier this long. It was dark. Too dark for Jaskier to see his way through the woods they re-entered. Geralt pulled out a small contained from his belt pouch, lit it with Igni, and passed it to Jaskier.

“Make sure not to blow it out and stay behind enough to where you can barely see me.”

“Understood.” Jaskier tried to keep his tone and energy level with Geralt’s but failed, “Isn’t this exciting?”

“We’re walking through the woods, outnumbered, and could potentially die from other monsters before we reach Granger.”

“I know it just seems like this will make yet another epic tale!”

“Shush.”

Geralt led the way. Sniffing out the various scents as to distinguish one of the several types most useful for an oil needed for his sword. It took several minutes. Half an hour perhaps. Then he caught the scent of a bear in the vicinity. A few shallow breaths fled from his nostrils as he pulled out his steel sword. After a while longer the witcher found tracks to confirm the general location of where the bear would be next. And from the heavy breathing of the wild animal. A few minutes later he could see the hairy mass that heaved with every laboured breath. The bears nostrils flared as it searched for food. Geralt kept his poise whilst approaching the bear. His glistening eyes told Jaskier to stay in place whilst he took the lead from here on. He kept his grip tight on his great sword holding it above his head. Then with a swift kick off he raced to the bear and with a simple swing decapitated it letting the hulking mass shudder and slump bleeding into the grass. Putting away his sword after wiping the blood of the newly made carcass Geralt pulled out his trophy knife as he opened the body and extracted the desired amounts of fat from it. He hurriedly made his way back to Jaskier.

“C’mon the closer we are to the corpse the worse this night is going to be for us.” He grumbled as he made his way back to the camp.

“W-worse?”

“Yes, remember vampires feed on the blood of fallen prey. Human or monster there is little to no difference. To them blood is blood.”

“O-oh.”

“What wasn’t covered in bard school?” as the witcher cocked an eyebrow.

“Well not really.” Jaskier seemed both a bit annoyed and pleased to find Geralt with a sense of humour after all, “Mainly just pretty words to pacify kings and awaken queens.” The bard seemed to smile despite the dark over tones of their current misadventure.

“Get your head back from your old cuckhold before I bring it back for you.”

With that Jaskier’s head snapped back towards Geralt. His face now resembling the dark overtones of the forest around them. From that moment they continued to walk further into the clearing almost at a snails’ pace at a time. Geralt was relieved at the amount of peace and quiet he had now obtained with Jaskier still around. It was amazing and disturbing how Jaskier had calmed down, focused, and remained silent. Save the slight catch of air in the cavity of his lute and the light vibration of the strings that resonated in is ears it was still faint. Even for his Witcher’s senses it was rather faint. The horrific dark red light from the setting sun hung over the clouds in the distance emitting bright waves of orange as they slowly gave way to darkness. It slowly became too dark for Jaskier to follow him any longer. However, given that Jaskier’s mood seemed to have fallen with the setting sun it seemed best to accompany him. Although he did not want to admit it Geralt did enjoy Jaskier’s company. However, things never went well with his companions. Over the years Geralt had lost several companions. Mercenaries, fighters, drunkards, lovers, women, wenches, and whores each of them falling prey to the evils of monster or man. Each unique and wonderful in their own way. Only after several decades, maybe even centuries had he come across someone who tried to leap over his mental walls. Now he had two of them to worry about.

Geralt let out a deep sigh as they neared roach and they light burning coals, “Is there something you need to get off your chest.” His yellow eyes piercing the darkness.

“It’s just- it just bothers me we have to wait out here before we go save Granger. She’s young, afraid, and now.” As he threw his hands up in the air, “Now she’s gone just when things started to seem a little brighter around here.”

“It’s a phase.” As Geralt leaned back against a nearby tree, “Light, dark, good, evil, it comes and goes like night and day. Rise and fall of the tides. Take your pick.”

“But doesn’t that seem wrong?” as Jaskier unslung his lute from his shoulder and carefully placing it on the ground.

“Are we on this topic again?” he arched an eyebrow, “It’s the ebb and flow of life whether it is right or wrong there is little difference.”

“Says the man that can live for-” as his thoughts carried him away before snapping back to his current reality, “how old are you-”

“Jaskier.” He tilted his head forward, “This conversation will to nothing to save Granger. If anything, this will only cause your heart to race and thinking to become rash.”

“But we need to-”

“You need to rest” as Geralt waved his hand letting the sigil hang in the air before the power falls upon Jaskier.

“Oh, c’mon Geralt no-” the bard tried to resist until following the power of suggestion and gently nodding off to sleep.

Once asleep Geralt kept watch on the coals grabbing a bowl from his pack readying his ingredients for the oil mixture. The pot needed was already prepared and resting upon the coals. Closing the rucksack and placing the mixture of herbs and salts along base of the bowl Geralt reached for his sack of newly obtained bear fat. The hiss of simmering heavy adipose tissue lasted a few seconds before falling silent. Bear fat smelled sweeter than the musky dirt coated scent of the beast. However, Geralt was sure not all of the beast went to waste. He was glad he took the long route back to camp. The mixtures of herbs and flowers were enough to hide their scent and with any other luck the scent of dead bear upon their person. As the fats began to melt and boil into a thick goo Geralt started to fill the pot with the herbs and spices in the bowl. The aroma started to grow stronger as the various components intermingled with another as they cooked slowly.

Geralt went back to his pack and pulled out a whetstone from his pack. The rectangular stone was a dark grey and rough like a cats’ tongue. There was no need for water to wet it with. Water was precious here and now. Had there been a priest hiding about the objective would be to get it blessed. Then again Geralt had only come across one or two priests in the past century that could make holy water. Yet, he still needed the whetstone to be wet before sharpening his blade. He spat on the stone and whispered Igni over his blade letting it gradually glow to a bright yellow colour. The hiss of the whetstone now overpowered the bubbling of fat. Grating over the heated metal the dented sections gradually started to give way on his silver blade forming a whole piece again. That was the problem with silver. Put it into cutlery or a small hunting knife and it would last most people a lifetime. However, Geralt had a whole longsword made of it. From the time alone it the majority of it had been replaced. It was wonderful listening to the ringing of the blade. Almost soothing to where he could meditate upon the events that lay before him. Geralt closed his eyes as he let his sense of smell guide him on determining the proper rendering of the fat into oils. Truly Geralt had seen more and more monsters in recent days. Add the number of monsters he had fought in that time and the blade had probably been fully replaced several times over. It was a difficult time and more monsters started to prowl along the lands and sky gradually expanding their travels beyond the confines of the night. Sure, there were several monsters that normally prowled during the day. Now there were just more of them that started doing so. After five hours into the night the fats were completely rendered into an oil. With a douse of alcohol, the strength of it made sure the saturated fats had broken down further as to stop it from becoming a solid again. Geralt removed the pot as to let it cool down before emptying it into another pouch to later coat his blade.

Taking a brief swig from the pouch of alcohol he grimaced to himself as he felt the burning sensation run down his throat. It was an unpleasant experience even for him, but it did assist in causing his own mind from wandering any further than necessary. Geralt looked over to the bard only to smile to himself briefly. He knew that this whole Granger in trouble problem would soon dissipate once the Lady Bruxa was dispatched. Jaskier was tense, but the sleep was welcome. The bard rolled over and Geralt couldn’t help but laugh to himself while the expression on the bard’s face was hilarious. Even though he was asleep one was open and rolled up slowly towards his brow, his mouth was half open on one side of his face opposite of the open eye, all while a new pool of saliva started to gather at the base of his face that rested on his arm. If he stayed on that side for the rest of the night Jaskier would have to pull his face from his sleeve. He may be a bard, but he drooled like a dog and over similar interests too it seemed. A good nap, food, sex, all those things caused him to salivate more than needed when the time came. Jaskier was always good at keeping it under wraps when he was awake, hence all the heavy gulps. Geralt could hear it gather in his mouth during the day and smell the food or sex in his mouth as it built up. However, when Jaskier slept the poor bard had no control. Some of the times it would get caught up in his hair and make it look like he had bedhead.

\------------------------------------------------

“How is your massage Miss Granger.” The Lady Bruxa’s voice was smooth and velvety as hot stones rested upon her back.

“Merlin’s beard this is wonderful.” Hermione sighed heavily.

“Indeed, Balaro here is one of the most skilled men I have ever encountered.”

“Even after all this time you still find a way to flatter me.” The man flashed a quick smile, before resuming his duties.

His hands although thin and delicate were also strong and soft. Hermione’s back was practically clay in his hands, and he was the skilled potter working her over in beautifully smooth motions. The oil was a mixture of rose and diluted orange oils which gave a well balanced sweet and bitter scent to it. It was strange to find that Balaro was not only the butler, but one of the chefs, a masseur, gardener, and Bruxa’s cab driver. It was odd, having him wear a variety of hats under one large mansion roof. However, it did explain the strength and dexterity of his hands that brought soothing sensations to her aching muscles.

The massage itself was wonderful. It started off with a head massage and hair washing. Followed by a face massage where his fingers would gently caress her forehead and temples before guiding down her jawline gently massaging her cheeks. He was terribly cautious to avoid her being exposed in any way that would come across as uncomfortable by having a variety of towels to cover herself with as he turned himself to avert his gaze from her. The communication was on point to where he assured her every time of what was going to happen before he proceeded. His hands were ever so skilful as he massaged the front of her neck, down her arms, around her hands, back up to her shoulders, skipping over her chest and massaging her waist and stomach before going to the top of her thighs and feet. Heated towels were placed over the newly massaged areas and hot stones over the existing ones that kept her modesty. It was like being swaddled in warm blankets around Christmas time.

However, such communication between him and Lady Bruxa were non-existent. Lady Bruxa was also more comfortable in her skin than she let on and that spoke volumes. Hermione was in such a state of bliss from the first half of her treatment she almost missed it. Even then the lighting was so vague to where she almost couldn’t see a thing. When she did look though she wished she didn’t. From the vague silhouette Lady Bruxa did not have any towels on. Hermione averted her gaze trying to go back to her state of bliss. This was not easy as the smacking of lips started. It became just another thing on Hermione’s list of duties Balaro fulfilled.

The tension seemed to crawl back into Hermione’s system as the two snogged for a while in the dimly lit room. Hermione felt her skin crawl more somehow as kissing stopped. Then magic seemed to overwhelm her as Balaro massaged the back of her neck. Somehow it drove away all of her worries and concerns as the tension started to melt away like cheese melting on to bread in the oven. Balaro started to race his fingers from along her neck to down her back. The circular motions of his thumbs pressing into her lower neck muscles settled the restlessness that once overwhelmed her system when the adults shared a very, brief, tame moment of passion. It seemed Balaro was not just a butler but her lover for lack of better words. Hermione thought this should cause her to feel weird, but the way Balaro guided his hands about her relieving any stress and built up tension. His hands races along her back no more like a potter with clay and more with the skill of a musician his fingers rolling along her back, the palms placing themselves firmly afterwards to send a deep wave over the trickling sensations that ebbed deep into her tissues. For a moment Hermione thought she could hear the melodious tune that was being played by Balaro’s hands. There were pushes, and pulls, ebbs and flows of musical sensation and passion. Then it stopped almost as soon as her realisation that it had occurred.

“I see you noticed his magic touch.” As she wrapped herself up in a robe, with another kiss Balaro was dismissed.

“That was magic?” Hermione arched an eyebrow as she reached for her own robe at the side of the massage bed.

“Well of course.” Even her laugh was heavenly in terms of lightness and sincerity, “As eyes are windows to the soul, so is emotion and passion the doors to the arcane.”

“So, all that with Balaro-” Hermione’s voice trailed off as she was finally relieved her embarrassment was hidden by the low light of the spa room.

“I’m a Lady, Miss Granger, not a nun.” Lady Bruxa laughed as she paced the room briefly rounding the corner of the massage table, “Besides I’m sure you’ve noticed your magic heightened when around certain people of interest.” As she took Hermione’s hand covering it in both hands. Even though she was a lady there was a certain amount of strength in her hands that caught Hermione off guard. Hermione’s breath hitched a little as Lady Bruxa brought Hermione’s hand to her lips, “You see even though it is obvious you are attracted to men. Strong. Burly men at that.” Lady Bruxa’s lips curled, “even a little passion and pleasure from me does wonders for the arcane reserves. Close your eyes and concentrate, you’ll feel it swell within you like waves of chaos.”

“Chaos?” Hermione was puzzled, from what she had read from the occasional glance from Geralt’s notes and some of the readings in the library chaos had a large amount of sway in the power and use of magic. However, she did close her eyes and did feel something in response. It was both hot and cold inside of her. No specific location on her person where it grew and flowed, but it was there nonetheless, “Is this it? It was almost like a whisper and yet-” as her voice trailed off again.

“Why yes, chaos is the energy that gives people like yourself the strength and possibility of using magic in the first place. Magic is just mortal races like us becoming vessels for chaos to ebb and flow within and without the body, with some guidance by our thoughts, passions, desires, and ambitions. The greatest of wizards and witches only tap into the first layers of magic.”

“Only the first couple of layers?” Hermione’s face twisted in confusion.

“Certainly.” Lady Bruxa dismissed, “Like that Merlin fellow you mentioned.”

“You know Merlin?”

“I knew of him.” She shrugged, “We only shared passing glances, light brushes in passing, it was only a phase it seemed.”

“But how did Merlin come to here? I thought he was only real in our world.” Hermione looked perplexed as she tried to put the pieces together.

“Simple, he possessed enough strength to open interdimensional portals allowing him to travel through chaos gates, or as you know them wormholes.” As Lady Bruxa started to lecture, “These wormholes can be used to cover great distances through time and space and if you are powerful enough.” She paused for dramatic effect, “Through the use of intense concentrated magic in a vessel, this type of concentration can be harnessed into a person or item or even a series of items for that matter.”

Hermione was relieved by the darkness that hid her shock. Was she really that powerful? No, that must be all in her head she thought. There was no way she harnessed enough power to where she could travel to alternate realities through time and space with so little as a thought as to where she would end up. Lady Bruxa’s eyes gleamed slightly in the remaining light. Had Lady Bruxa thought she was a powerful witch capable of doing such a thing? There was no way that was possible. And yet something in the Lady’s eyes caused her to squirm. Then it hit her. It had been such a long time, or it had felt like such, she had almost forgotten.

“The time turner.” Hermione whispered into her hand as the thought pierced her mind.

“What was that love?” she moved closer to Hermione.

“N-nothing.” The panic started to rise within her as the lady stood close to where the air from her nostrils brushed along the lady’s face, there noses almost touching, “I just didn’t realise that I had such potential-”

“Have such potential.” The lady corrected, “You still have the potential you just need an increase of power to channel that energy again. Come dinner should be prepared soon. I’ll leave you to get properly changed and we can continue our chat in the dining hall.”

\---------------------------------------------

Geralt and Jaskier were surprised as the sun cascaded down into the clearing. The witcher was surprised at the easement of sleep he had provided it was only three hours’ worth. He was the first of the two to wake up and once again it was his pleasure to catch Jaskier’s horror when he awoke. Not only was the bard’s face stuck partially to his sleeve, but after eight hours of sleep he had drooled enough to where there was a large pool on his rucksack. His hair was so slicked from it to where not only did it stand up but swirled slightly. The other half of his face had dried spittle while it clung to the rucksack.

“Morning.” As he watched the bard look up like he was hung over.

“Morning Geralt?” his eyes opened with a perplexing look on his face, “You hardly ever greet me in the morning.” He started to smile, “Does that mean you’re warming up to me- Wait. W-what the hell?” the bard’s look of amusement was replaced by concern when he stretched his face being pulled with his sleeve, “Geralt did you do this?” as he lifted his head and the bag started to hold his head down with resistance, “G-Geralt! D-did you kill a monster while I was sleeping?” his eyes went from concerned to enraged for a second then back to concerned again, “Did you let it bleed on me while I slept? I mean I know you witcher’s are an odd sort, but if this is how you get your kicks I-”

His voice trailed off as he watched Geralt reach into his bag. He wasn’t sure if the witcher was going to pull out a severed head or throw him a scrap of food. In all honesty he would have been happy if it were either, so long as he didn’t throw the head at him. Jaskier’s jaw dropped with a look of confusion when he pulled out a small mirror. His look went from confused back to enraged again.

“Geralt is this a cruel joke?” as his hand went to his hair, the drool from his slumber caused it to be hard, slightly coarse.

“You know me I don’t joke.” As he threw the mirror his way.

“Don’t you ever tire of this?” as Jaskier reached for a brush to drag through his hair since all the water he could find was for drinking.

“Fighting monsters, yes.” Geralt grumbled, “But this” as he pointed to the bard struggling to find a way to calm down his now rebellious hair, “Never.”

“They why do this? The fighting monsters bit I mean. Doesn’t it get a little old? You fight the monster, the wizard, witch, etc.” he waved to exaggerate the list, “Why?”

Geralt grunted with a shrug, “Why does a fly vomit on whatever it lands on?” he paused as Jaskier counted in his head the number of flies that landed on his meal during lunch yesterday, “Call it habit, instinct, natural upbringing, either way it’s just what I do.”

“Huh…” Jaskier shrugged as he had to settle with his hair being in a mess with a cowlick along the back, “I guess I don’t have to worry about my looks too much seeing as we are going in to kill everybody, save Granger, and put as much distance between us and this place as possible, correct?” he squinted at Geralt still trying to acclimate to the light of the slow rising sun.

“That’s the plan” as Geralt slung the oil in the bag over his shoulder after strapping on his swords, “So long as you don’t trip and fall again.”

“G- oh come one are you still holding on to that?” Jaskier protested, “I saved that woman from the wraith by bumping into her!”

“Falling into a poor scullery maid cock first is not what I’d call saving.” He grunted as he adjusted the bags near Roach’s saddle, “And besides the wraith was in the bottom of the well, nowhere near the barn.”

“Well I still helped her!” he called to Geralt as the witcher sauntered deeper into the clearing headed towards the gardens leading to the stately manor.

“Giving her a day, she’d regret in nine months is now what I’d call help.” He called back.

The two continued to bicker almost like an old married couple. Jaskier would try and prove a point by providing vast detailed accounts most of which were skewed to his favour while Geralt just grunted and kept walking. It was to no surprise that on their way to the gardens that stretched out several miles before reaching the manor they had encountered nobody. Given the fact that most of the staff were most likely all turned there would be no chance they would be caught out in the sun. This gave Geralt an edge when it came to storming the manor. The scent of roses wafted his nostrils several times over. Each colour of rose had a different scent to them. He could smell the reagents that caused them to bloom in different colours primarily yellow, pink, white, and red. Each colour was given to a certain area of the garden, but there seemed to be no easily recognizable pattern. Once approaching the tall shrubbery, he pulled out his silver sword and started to apply the oil to the blade. He had to be conscious of how much oil he was applying. Too much and the blade does not last the whole encounter. Too little and it would dry off after several good slashes. It would be a waste of time and time was precious especially when dealing with a vampire noble.

“Fuck.” He said flatly as he rounded a corner, “The garden’s a maze.”

Taking out his hunting knife he grabbed a vine and gave it a slow long cut. Sap ran along the blade just as easily as mortal blood would. Then just as slowly the vine started to pull itself together until it resembled the same structure as before. With a low sigh Geralt started cutting at the vine faster taking whole chunks off at a time. Each fallen piece almost instantly planted, sprouted, and enforced the walls of the garden maze.

“Great.” As he put the knife away, “An enchanted garden maze.” As he took his longsword in both hands now, “Come on Jaskier the sooner we traverse this the better.”

Geralt was welcomed with utter silence, save the very brief bird call in the far distance in the trees. Jaskier’s breathing or heart rate could not even be heard. With a quick turn Geralt cursed to himself as he faceplanted into a wall of leaves and vines.

“Shit.” As he blew out leaves from the corner of his mouth, “A magic-using vampire and a horny bard on the loose. My day just gets better and better.”

\----------------------------

“Strolling into danger as we go to save miss Granger” the bard plucked a couple of chords on his lute, “going to kill a vampire and place her body on the fire.” He quickly slammed his hand on the strings making it all stop in an instant, “Does that make any sense? Like to vampires need to be burned or is it something simple like cutting their head off? Geralt?”

Jaskier turned around several times over and saw nothing but thin paths and vines. Otherwise the only things he could sense was the smell of the garden and the only sounds that existed were now the sound of his own voice. Something he was no stranger to, but still it was helpful for when he was trying to make a dramatic song to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Although that being said Geralt was not one for sharing more detail than needed and even then, the details he provided were generally when he was on the job. So, more hack and slash than using words. Which was great it painted a picture. A gore ridden, crimson, scream and tear-filled picture but a picture, nonetheless.

Jaskier couldn’t help but feel like he was caught with his trousers down. Except in the more uncomfortable way, like when the husband opens the door. He didn’t know how vulnerable he felt when on a monster hunting quest when Geralt wasn’t around until now. Even though the garden was beautiful as he came to an opening where cobblestone rest in a circle dug into the earth with a couple of benches and potted plants, there was still something about it that made him feel ill at ease. Taking a seat, he tried thinking his options over and over again as he played more familiar tunes. His fingers danced over the polished fretted wood and teased at the strings with brilliant easement. The push and pull of the music that radiated from his lute swept through the vacant space. The smell of the flowers causing him to drift away from the familiar tunes causing the music to rush and swell. His mind was taken aback to a time in his youth at the bard college.

A blond-haired maiden in a red and gold dress smelling of roses. Deidre was her name. She wasn’t much of a singer or song writer. Nor a poet for that matter. However, she did show great prowess in the forms of diplomacy, etiquette, and dance. She was as beautiful as a rosebud and limber as a vine. The first time he had actually met her was during a dance recital performing a piece titled, “The Festival of Faye”. Although beautiful as a flower her motions were more fluid and dramatic like swelling waves. Later that same night, a few songs, poetry, and several drinks later and they were having their own little festival. It was the time of his young life, his very first, and he was way out of his depth.

He could still picture her at this very moment, and it sent his heart from a steady beat to a rapid pounding. All while the memories of that night came flooding into his memory. The way her fingers danced about his chest and ran through his hair. He could see it all perfectly. For a moment he closed his eyes and he was there in the thick of it.

Upon opening his eyes Deidre was there. Atop of him as she was before. However, things were way worse than they seemed. For starters her eyes were red as crimson, her skin a pale grey, her hair no longer the golden blonde but instead dull and slowly turning white. Her red dress was tattered and exposed sections of her body that seemed to be all withered and dried. The very air had changed even when he saw her. As if the sun had been blocked by clounds. Try as he might there were no words that could have escaped his mouth. His jaw just hung there like a fish on a hook. Then there was a rustling sound like critters rushing though dead leaves. Although dark the garden was still luscious and green. It was only until he could feel it on the pressed thigh against his own that he realised there was something moving in her skin. Jaskier tried to clench is mouth shut but the sheer panic of it all just caused him to lock up in fright.

The skin continued to ripple and rustle growing more and more frequent and louder as it surged up her body. Then it could be clearly seen at the edges of her mouth wriggling through her teeth. Millipedes. Small ones, big ones, dozens of little legs brushing along rotting gums and falling out of her mouth starting one at a time and gradually building. Jaskier could only moan in terror as several splatted on his face, some in his hair, others in his mouth. Then the whole image of Deidre started to warp and change into a swarm of these things cascading down his person and wriggling along his skin. He was locked into a state of horror as he felt all the tiny legs running along his exposed flesh and finding their way under his sleeves, collar, boots, and trousers. The occasional series of legs brushing up against his neck or inner ear caused him to shake in detest as more ran along the inside of his mouth and wriggled their way out of his nostrils. Closing his eyes as they crossed over his eyelids hoping they didn’t have enough strength to make their way inside. Then it all ceased.

“‘bout time you waked up silly!” a frustrated child-like voice called out as it tried to stifle it’s laughter.

“What the actual f-” as Jaskier opened his eyes realising he now had control over his body again whilst coming face to face with a little grey skinned child with ratty black hair.

“No time the miss and the white one is in danger!” the little kid started to pout stomping his feet.

Looking about him Jaskier realised he wasn’t in the garden at all but instead back at the camp. The coals had gone cold and there was Roach just standing there completely unphased by what was going on. All while this creepy looking child was now tapping its foot at the bard impatiently. Looking about him Jaskier noticed that Geralt had been gone, but his swords were left behind, and all of his belongings seemed to have been ransacked or scattered.

“W-what happened?” the bard asked franticly but altogether somewhat calm as he found his lute unharmed.

“You went to sleep’n then next I knew you was here alone.” As the little kid started to make his way to Geralts’ silver sword grabbing it by the hilt and dragging it behind him, “C’mon the white one needs this.”

“So that’s it? One freaky nightmare and bam I’m storming a Manor of vampires with a child!”

“Godling” the kid corrected, “Name’s Dur, but we need to save miss witch.”

“Wait you know Granger?”


End file.
